•) 


*»»  »  »  »  »  »  »» 

Please 

handle  this  volume 

with  care. 


3  =1153  DD^S7^^=^  a 


O 

ON 


INFLUENCE  OF  MOTHERS 


CHARACTER,  WELFARE  AND  DESTINY 


INDIVIDUALS,  FAMILIES  AND  COMMUNITIES, 


ILLUSTRATED  IN   A   SERIES   OF   ANECDOTES: 


WITH  A  PRELIMINARY  ESSAY  ON  THE  SAME  SUBJECT, 


BY  CHARLES  A.  GOODRICH. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED  BY  CROCKER  AND  BREWSTER, 

47,  Washington  St. 
NEW  YORK— LEA VITT,  LORD,  &  Co. 
182,  Broadway 

1835. 


Eoteired  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1835,  by 

Crocker  and  Brewster, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


feOSTON : 

t*rinted  by  Wm.  A.  Hall  &  Co., 

192,  Washington  St. 


PREFACE. 


Among  the  exciting  subjects  of  the  present 
day,  there  is  scarcely  one,  if  indeed  there  be  a 
single  one,  of  deeper  interest  than  that  of  Ma- 
terna  Infliu  nee.  This  influence  has  existed  in 
all  times  past ;  and,  although,  in  particular  in- 
stances, it  has  doubtless  been  fully  and  appro- 
priately exerted ;  ye%  as  a  moral  power,  co- 
extensive with  our  race,  and  which  might  bear 
upon  the  happiness  of  mankind,  with  greater  ef- 
fect than  most  others  —  what  has  it  accom- 
plished ? 

We  ask  not  this  question  with  respect  to  sav- 
age and  uncivilized  nations.  From  the  depress- 
ed and  degraded  condition  of  woman  among 
such  nations,  her  influence  must  ever  be  small, 


PREFACE. 


even  with  a  degree  of  knowledge  and  refinement, 
far  greater  than  she  can  be  supposed  to  possess, 
in  such  circumstances.  But  one  can  scarcely 
avoid  imagining,  at  times,  what  a  different  aspect 
this  world  would  have  worn,  had  maternal  influ- 
ence been  exerted,  under  the  direction  of  the 
word  and  Spirit  of  God,  through  the  centuries 
which  have  elapsed  since  sin  began  its  reign  in 
this  apostate  world.  What  a  difference  would 
it  have  made  in  the  annals  of  tyranny  and  blood- 
shed, had  the  mothers  of  Alexander,  Caesar, 
Genghis  Khan,  or  Tamerlane,  been  qualified  to 
have  trained  them  up  for  God?  And  what  riv- 
ers of  blood  might  have  been  prevented  —  what 
mockings  and  scourgings  —  what  tears  and 
groans,  had  Nero,  Domitian,  and  their  equally 
cruel  successors  been  nursed  in  the  lap  of  ma- 
ternal piety  I 

But,  passing  the  unenlightened  and  unchris- 
tianized  territories  and  ages  of  the  world,  and 
taking  a  survey  of  tho  se  countries,  where  the 
Bible  has  raised  woman  to  her  proper  elevation, 
what  here  has  maternal  influence  achieved? 


PREFACE. 


In  particular  instances,  it  has  indeed  done 
much.  By  means  of  it,  many  an  individual  has 
been  saved  from  infamy  and  disgrace  —  many 
a  one  has  been  trained  up  for  usefulness,  honor 
and  heavenly  glory.  Many  a  son  and  daughter 
will  form  a  mother's  *' crown  of  joy,"  in  the 
eternal  world  ;  and  when  the  final  disclosures 
shall  be  made  of  the  means  and  methods  em- 
ployed, by  a  God  of  grace,  to  bring  home  his 
ransomed  sons  and  daughters,  it  will  be  found 
that  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  have  a 
dwelling  on  high  through  the  prayers,  and  tears, 
and  counsels  of  godly  mothers. 

But  in  comparison  with  what  this  influence 
might  have  done,  what  has  it  done  i* — What  is 
it  now  doing?  It  is  a  lever  which  might  raise 
this  world  to  a  vastly  higher  moral  elevation, 
than  it  has  yet  attained.  It  is  a  power,  which 
might  hasten  the  emancipation  of  a  world,  still 
under  the  thraldom  and  bondage  of  sin  —  which 
might  speedily  convey  light,  and  life,  and  joy 
to  every  habitation  of  cruelty  on  earth.  Put 
this  power  in  exercise,  in  respect  to  a  single 
1* 


6  PREFACE. 

generation  of  Christian  lands  —  let  those  who 
are  one  day  to  fill  the  places  of  power  and  au- 
thority come  under  the  influence  of  mothers,  and 
those  mothers  be  consecrated  to  God — let  the 
mansions  of  the  affluent,  and  the  cottages  of  the 
poor,  each  have  a  mother  bringing  up  her  chil- 
dren in  the  ''  admonition  "  of  the  Lord — let  this 
be  true  of  those,  who  will  one  day  occupy 
thrones,  and  who  will  counsel  kings  ;  who  will 
dispense  justice  from  the  bench  ;  expound  the 
law  of  God  from  the  pulpit ;  and  open  the  foun- 
tains of  knowledge  in  the  school,  and  the  lec- 
ture-room, —  and  what  would  be  the  result?  Is 
it  too  much  to  believe,  that  in  a  single  score  of 
years  ''  the  sound  of  the  church-going-bells" 
would  gladden  the  Tartar  in  his  solitude,  and 
cheer  the  spiritual  pilgrim,  where  pass  the  cur- 
rents of  the  Nile  or  the  Ganges  ? 

Some  such  era,  it  is  believed,  will  yet  arrive. 
The  sleep  of  the  Christian  world,  on  this  mo- 
mentous subject,  will  yet  be  broken.  Indeed, 
indications  are  abroad,  that  the  dawning  time 
has  already  arrived.     Gleams  of  light  are  be- 


PREFACE.  7 

ginning  to  appear  —  the  precursor  of  a  bright 
and  glorious  day.  Whatever  tends  to  facilitate 
its  approach,  will  doubtless  be  regarded  with 
favor,  however  feeble  and  humble  it  may  be. 
The  object  of  the  present  volume,  it  is  scarce- 
ly necessary  to  say,  is  to  add  somewhat,  if  it 
may  be,  to  die  interest,  which  is  beginning  to 
be  felt  on  this  important  subject.  The  effort  is 
a  humble  one.  But  in  the  course  of  his  read- 
ing, the  author  has  met  with  various  striking 
and  interesting  facts  and  scenes,  relating  to  ma- 
ternal influence  ;  and  which  he  has  here  thrown 
together,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  to  moth- 
ers, what  mothers  have  done  and  suffered,  and 
which  mothers  now  living  may  do  in.  similar 
circumstances  ;  and  where  they  may  find  wis- 
dom and  consolation,  in  seasons  of  similar  trial 
and  difficulty.  And  the  hope  is  indulged,  that 
the  perusal  of  the  volume  may  prove  an  incen- 
tive to  mothers  to  do  '^  with  their  might,"  for 
their  children,  in  respect  to  spiritual  training, 
"  what  their  hands  find  to  do,"  since  active  ma- 
ternal  influence,  as   well  as  ''  knowledge  and 


8  PREFACE. 

wisdom  and  device  "  will  soon  cease  "in  the 
grave,  whither  they  are  going." 

For  the  article  )ii  the  "  Influence  of  Moth' 
ers,^^  the  author  is  indebted  to  a  valued  friend, 
whose  name*  alone  is  a  sufficient  surety  of  its  in- 
terest and  ability.  The  remainder  of  the  vol- 
ume, it  will  be  perceived,  is  a  collection  of 
pieces  on  the  subject  of  Maternal  Influence, 
which,  in  the  absence  of  a  more  appropriate  title 
he  has  included  under  the  general  terra  of  "An- 
ecdotes." He  has  designed  to  give  credit, 
where  the  author  could  be  ascertained.  Some 
liberty  has  been  taken  in  respect  to  the  phrase- 
ology ;  but,  in  no  case,  has  the  original  sense 
been  intentionally  altered.  The  work  has  less 
the  aspect  of  uniformity  than  could  be  desired, 
but  greater  changes,  with  this  object  in  view, 
were  deemed  inadmissible. 

Mothers!  what  a  responsibility  rests  upon 
you  ! — You  hold  a  power  of  greater  bearing, 
than  that  of  earthly  monarchs.  The  very  des- 
tinies of  a  world  are  at  your  disposal.     You  are 

*  Rev.  Royal  Robbins. 


PREFACE  9 

at  this  moment  cherishing  the  monarchs,  which 
in  future  years  will  spread  fire  and  sword,  or 
peace  and  joy  over  the  globe!  You  are  cher- 
ishing those,  who,  as  the  ambassadors  of  God, 
shall  proclaim  the  tidings  of ,  salvation  in  the 
dark  corners  of  the  world,  or,  as  the  instruments 
of  the  Prince  of  darkness,  shall  help  to  perpetu- 
ate his  cruel  bondage  over  the  enslaved  miUions 
of  mankind.  Mothers!  the  church  itself  is,  in 
a  sense,  in  your  hands,  to  accelerate,  or  retard, 
the  day,  when  it  shall  be  said  ''  her  warfare  is 
accomplished." 

Look,  then,  with  ceaseless  vigilance,  with 
holy  solicitude  after  your  children.  ''  Corrupt- 
ed, they  are  fountains  of  bitterness  for  ages. 
Would  you  plant  for  the  skies?  Plant  in  the 
live  soil  of  the  warm  and  'generous,  and  youth- 
ful ;  pour  all  your  treasures  into  the  hearts  of 
children.  What  children  are,  neighborhoods 
are.  What  neighborhoods  are,  communities 
are,  states,  empires,  worlds!  They  are  the 
elements  of  Hereafter  made  visible.  Watch, 
then,  your  children  forever,   by  day  and  by 


10  PREFACE. 

night !  Pray  for  them  forever,  by  night  and  by 
day  ;  and  not  as  children,  but  as  men  of  a  smaller 
growth,  as  men  with  most  of  the  evil  passions, 
and  with  all  the  evil  propensities  that  go  to  make 
man  terrible  to  his  fellow-man,  his  countenance 
hateful,  his  approach  a  fiery  pestilence,  and  his 
early  death,  if  these  passions  and  propensities 
be  not  checked,  "  a  blessing  to  his  father  and 
mother,"  to  the  church,  and  to  the  world."  * 

*  Token,  1835. 


CONTENTS. 


Introduction IS 

The  Tract  and  Pocket  Bible  -          Pastors  Journal.  39 

The  Righteous  Never  Forsaken     -       -        -       -  43 

Resignation    -        -        -        .          Family  at  Home.  46 

Poor  Jack       ...        -         Leigh  Richmond.  47 

Influence  of  Early  Impressions        Mother  at  Home.  48 

Happy  Effect  of  Mildness       -----  51 

Early  Discipline     -        -        .         Family  at  Home.  54 

Philosophy  of  Woman's  Religion         -       -       -  55 

The  Widow's  Son  -        -        -        Home  Miss.  Mag.  59 

Mother's  Gift 64 

Woman Eng.Mag.  65 

An  Example  for  Mothers       -         New  Hamp.  Obs.  66 

The  Husband  and  Wife 68 

The  Effects  of  Prayer 71 

A  Wife's  Prayer  Blessed        -          Christian  Index.  74 

The  Shipwrecked  Mariner    -----  76 

Anecdote  of  a  Seaman   -        -      .  -        -       -        -  78 

Maternal  Influence         -        -    Jour,  of  Education.  80 

The  Persecuting  Husband  and  his  Pious  Wife      -  81 

My  Mother's  Grave        -        -    Juvenile  Miscellany.  84 

The  Brother's  Cluarrel   -        -        -        Cham.  Jour.  87 

Recollections  of  a  Minister     Christ.  Adv.  and  Jour.  92 

Prevalence  of  a  Mother's  Prayers         Pastors  Jour.  96 

The  Mother's  Reward    -        -        -       Female  Adv.  100 

Maternal  Piety        -        -        -           New  York  Obs.  101 

Never  Deceive  Children         -         Mother  at  Home.  105 


12  CONTENTS. 

Page. 

The  Collier  Boy     -        .        -        -     Jour,  of  Hum.  107 

The  Praying  Mother 108 

The  Death  Bed       -        -        -          Pastors  Journal.  110 

Mother,  I  will  go             -        Lon.  Neio.  Sail.  Mag.  112 

A  Warning  to  Wicked  Parents      -      Pastors  Jour.  113 

Be  ye  wise  as  Serpents 115 

The  Church  Conference 116 

Affection  to  Parents  rewarded        -        -        -        -  117 

The  Sailor's  Faith           -         Christ.  Adv.  and  Jour.  119 

Prayer  answered 120 

Evil  Effects  of  Indulgence      -        -       N.Y.  Evan.  122 

The  Converted  Husband        -        -      Mothers  Mag.  125 

Remarkable  Providence 130 

The  Bereaved  Mother    -        -        -          Emporium.  132 

Parental  Falsehoods       _        -        .       Jjit.  Gazette.  133 

A  Temptation         .        .        .        .     Mothers  Mag.  135 

Recollections  of  a  Mother 142 

Conversion  of  a  Captain         -        -          Sail.  Mag.  144 

Family  Love           _        _        .        The  Pious  Sister.  146 

The  Mother Telegraph.  150 

The  New  Dress      -        -        -        -     Mothers  Mag.  153 

Pray  Without  Ceasing 155 

Conversion  of  a  Sailor  -        -        Christian  Herald.  156 
Secret  of  a  Mother's  control  over  the  Conscience  of 

her  Son    -----     Mothers  Mag.  159 

Effects  of  Kindness 162 

Exertions  of  a  Pious  Female          .        -        -        .  \q\ 

Affecting  Example  of  Usefulness  in  Poverty          -  166 

A  Mother's  Difficulties  -        -          Mother  at  Home.  168 

Sorrow  turned  to  Joy 171 

Family  Discipline           -        -           Obs.  and  Chron.  173 

The  Fennel  Leaves         -        -        -     Mothers  Mag.  178 

Maternal  Irresolution     -        -          Mother  at  Home.  179 

My  own  History    -        -        -        Christian  Mirror.  180 

A  Son  leaving  his  Father's  House  Fire  Side  Piety.  183 

The  Mother's  Privilege          -        -      Mrs.  Hemans.  186 

A  Common  Change        -        -         Family  at  Home.  187 

Future  Defenders  of  the  Faith        -      Mothers  Mag.  188 


IxNTRODUCTlON. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  MOTHERS. 

Woman  was  designed  by  Him  who  made  her, 
to  act  an  important  part,  and  fill  a  wide  space, 
in  the  economy  of  the  present  world.  The  in- 
dications of  this  truth  are  not  at  all  ambiguous, 
or  uncertain.  However  common  it  has  been 
to  ascribe  a  superiority  of  intellect  to  the  male, 
we  view  this  opinion  as  the  result  of  preju- 
dice, rather  than  of  sober  sense.  The  fortu- 
itous, or  rather  the  providential  circumstance, 
that  power  is  on  the  side  of  man,  has  led  him 
to  indulge  a  degree  of  superciliousness  on  the 
subject,  as  unworthy  of  himself,  as  it  has  been 
pernicious  in  its  effects,  upon  those  who  ought 
to  have  been  benefitted  by  that  power.  It  has 
induced  him  at  times  to  deny  that  equal  care 
and  attention  to  the  sex,  in  respect  to  their 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

education,  which  are  alike  due  to  their  own  ex- 
cellence, and  to  the  character  of  the  proper 
lords  of  the  creation.  But  the  abuse  of  which 
man  has  been  guilty,  derogates  not  in  the  least 
from  the  glorious  workmanship  of  God.  There 
is  every  appearance  of  equal  attributes  and  en- 
dowments—  of  equal  susceptibility  of  improve- 
ment; and,  save  in  the  single  circumstance, 
that  divine  wisdom  constituted  man  with  great- 
er strength  of  body,  for  the  necessary  pur- 
poses of  being  the  head,  there  is  no  reason  to 
deny  the  peculiar  and  commanding  influence, 
which  woman  is  destined  by  her  Creator  to 
exert.  Her  form,  her  stature,  her  features, 
her  beauty,  her  taste,  her  lively  sensibilities, 
her  mental  accomplishments — all  indicate  the 
important  destinies  she  is  fitted  to  fulfil,  and 
declare  her  equality  with  man,  in  every  object 
to  be  obtained  by  their  separate  or  mutual  in- 
fluence. Indeed,  it  would  appear,  from  the 
great  diversity  and  peculiar  character  of  her 
endowments,  that  the  mere  want  of  physical 
power  was  more  than  compensated.  It  would 
seem,  that  as  moral  influence  is  vastly  supe- 
rior to  brute  force,  woman  was  designed,  on 
the  whole,  to  exert  the  greater  influence  of  the 
two.  But  however  this  may  be,  it  is  evident 
from  every  characteristic  of  her  nature,  that 
the  wisdom  of  God  has  qualified  her  to  bear 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

her  full  and  equal  part  in  the  great  concerns  of 
life,  and  duty,  and  religion.  To  these  indica- 
tions of  nature,  revelation  annexes  its  authori- 
tative sentence.  In  the  original  formino;  of 
man,  as  narrated  in  scripture,  we  learn  that 
woman,  as  a  production  of  the  Almighty  hand, 
was  designed  to  be  a  help-meet  for  him,  and 
thus  to  be  a  companion  and  participator  of  his 
cares  and  toils — of  his  delights  and  sorrows. 
And  throughout  the  scriptures,  we  find  the 
most  pointed  allusions  to  the  dignity  and  im- 
portance of  the  sex  —  to  the  virtues  of  their 
hearts  —  and  to  the  responsibilities  annexed  to 
their  condition.  But  in  respect  to  the  rank 
which  revelation  has  assigned  to  woman,  es- 
pecially the  place  which  she  occupies  under 
the  enactments  of  the  new  dispensation,  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  speak  hereafter.  On 
the  whole,  it  is  a  dictate  both  of  nature  and  re- 
ligion, that  woman  was  made  for  purposes 
equally  important  with  those,  and  to  exert  an 
influence  equally  controlling  with  that,  which 
her  more  favored,  and  more  vaunted  associate 
has  claimed. 

While  the  theoretic  consideration  of  the 
subject  is  thus  clear  and  satisfactory,  we  know, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  females,  in  many  ages 
and  countries,  have  been  far  from  shining  forth 
in  the  full  glory  of  their  nature.     The  privi- 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

lege  and  the  obligation,  on  her  part,  of  exert- 
ing a  wide  and  sahitary  influence,  have  often 
been  denied  her,  or  rendered  nugatory  through 
the  pride,  ignorance,  and  officious  interference 
of  man.  Among  all  nations  unenlightened  by 
revelation,  it  has  long  been  remarked,  that  wo- 
man has  sunk  far  below  her  proper  level  in  so- 
ciety. Under  the  besotting  influence  of  sin 
and  lust,  she  has,  in  these  circumstances,  de- 
generated into  a  slave,  or  a  plaything.  In. 
savage  communities,  her  degradation  has  ever 
been  proverbial.  In  this  condition  her  sex  is 
the  more  uncultivated  of  the  two,  labors  under 
greater  disabilities,  and  has  a  larger  share  of 
burdens  to  endure.  Every  menial  office  and 
drudgery  is  rudely  laid  upon  her.  And  after 
the  performance  of  the  most  tedious  and  irk- 
some services  —  services,  which,  in  civilized 
communities,  are  always  assigned  to  the  male, 
she  is,  more  commonly  than  otherwise,  treated 
with  brutality  and  insolence,  by  her  haughty 
and  unfeeling  lord.  But,  even  in  communities 
better  informed,  yet  still  unenlightened  by  the 
word  of  God,  there  are  too  many  proofs  of  fe- 
male debasement  and  oppression.  Through- 
out the  half  civilized  nations  of  Asia,  among 
few  of  whom  the  power  of  the  gospel  has  been 
felt,  women  universally  are  an  inferior  caste, 
made  such  by  the  institutions  of  society.     In- 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

deed,  it  is  the  genius  of  Paganism  and  Mo- 
hammedanism, the  prevalent  religions  of  those 
countries,  to  strip  females  of  those  high  and  en- 
dearing attributes,  with  which  the  Creator  has 
endowed  them,  and  which  fit  them  for  the  sta- 
tion of  wives  and  mothers,  and  mistresses  of 
families.  Under  these  religions,  they  are  no 
longer  the  guardians  of  domestic  peace  and 
purity,  or  examples  of  dignified  virtue.  Sub- 
ject to  the  caprice,  lust,  or  vanity  of  their  mas- 
ters, they  have  few  or  none  of  the  prerogatives 
of  their  sex,  and  are  incapable  of  moulding  for 
their  good,  the  beings  to  whom  they  give  birth. 
Society  never  improves  under  the  influence 
of  Pagan,  and  Mohammedan  mothers  in  the 
East.  The  seraglio  especially,  though  the 
paradise  of  voluptuousness  and  beauty,  is  the 
grave  of  intelligence  and  moral  worth.  If  we 
ascend,  in  our  reflections,  to  more  enlightened 
Pagan  nations,  and  even  to  the  most  enli^iht- 
ened,  we  shall  find  still,  that  great  injustice 
was  done  to  females,  and  that  their  merits  and 
capabilities  of  improvement  were  not  duly  ap- 
preciated. Their  degradation,  however,  was 
not  universal  or  entire.  There  were  occasion- 
ally, among  these  renowned  nations,  examples 
of  female  excellence.  The  sex  was  not  lost  to 
all  its  influence,  when  we  read  of  one  among 
the  Boeotian  women,  who,  upon  being  question- 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

ed  why  she  did  not  wear  ornaments,  when  all 
other  women  wore  them,  answered,  that  her 
husband  was  her  ornament;  and  when  we  read 
also  of  the  Roman  Cornelia,  the  mother  of  the 
Gracchi,  who,  in  default  of  jewels,  such  as 
were  the  pride  of  others,  pointed  to  her  children 
as  her  jewels.  Indeed,  in  the  earlier  periods 
of  the  Roman  people,  the  females  were  virtu- 
ous, though  less  attention  was  paid  to  their  ed- 
ucation than  their  merits  deserved,  and  though 
their  privileges  bore  an  unfavorable  compari- 
son to  those  of  the  men.  In  the  days  of  Ro- 
man voluptuousness  and  splendor,  the  female 
character  lost  much  of  its  purity;  while  the 
sufferings  of  the  sex  were  greatly  augmented, 
by  the  practice  of  polygamy,  and  the  facility  of 
obtaining  divorce.  But  the  condition  of  Ro- 
man women,  uninviting  as  we  should  consider 
it,  was  always  superior  to  that  of  women  among 
the  Greeks.  The  law  of  seclusion,  with  the 
latter,  was  the  badge  of  their  bondage,  and  the 
severe  condition  of  their  virtue.  To  go  abroad 
into  society,  or  to  shine  in  intellectual  accom' 
plishments,  waste  acquire  a  character  of  shame, 
or  of  infamy.  Among  the  ancient  Persians,  a 
people  who  were  not  destitute  of  pretensions  to 
refinement  and  knowledge,  women  were  suffer- 
ed to  grow  up  without  the  discipline  of  virtue, 
and  answered  the  end  of  their  existence,  in  min- 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

isteiing  to  the  voluptuousness  of  society.  Thus 
in  the  most  civilized  and  polite  Pagan  nations 
ot^  antiquity,  nothing  like  female  education,  as 
known  in  these  times,  was  ever  considered  as 
either  necessary,  desirable,  oi  important.  We 
must  look,  therefore,  to  other  institutions  than 
those  of  Pagan  wisdom,  for  the  proper  devel- 
opment of  the  talents  and  virtues  of  the  sex. 
The  evident  designs  of  Divine  Providence,  in 
regard  to  women  among  all  these  nations,  have 
been  frustrated  or  perverted;  and  she  who  was 
ordained  by  her  Creator,  to  be  the  equal  and 
dignified  companion  of  man,  has  become  the 
victim  of  his  cruelties  and  the  slave  of  his 
pleasures. 

It  is  an  occasion  of  eternal  gratitude  to  God, 
that  in  the  religion  of  the  Bible,  woman  is  seen 
as  an  object  of  transcendent  importance,  and 
that  in  countries  where  this  religion  prevails, 
and  in  proportion  to  its  prevalence,  she  is  re- 
garded and  treated  as  such.  This  was,  in  a 
measure,  the  case,  even  under  the  Old  Testa- 
ment dispensation — a  dispensation  in  all  re- 
spects of  inferior  light  and  privileges  to  those 
which  were  to  follow.  Among  the  chosen  peo- 
ple of  God,  females  were  far  more  highly  esti- 
mated, and  their  virtues  and  endowments  had 
much  greater  sway,  than  in  the  surrounding 
countries  of  paganism.     This  we  learn,  from 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

the  several  beautiful  eulogiums  contained  in  the 
Old  Testament  scriptures,  concerning  the  vir- 
tuous woman,  as  well  as  from  the  examples 
there  recorded,  of  female  excellence.  But 
Christianity  has  been  peculiarly  auspicious  to 
woman.  It  has  restored  her  to  her  true  place 
and  station  in  society.  It  has  reinstated  her, 
in  all  her  just  and  endearing  prerogatives,  as 
she  came  from  the  hands  of  her  Maker,  in  the 
garden  of  innocence.  The  genius  of  the  Gos- 
pel is  more  fully  exhibited  in  the  revolution, 
which  it  has  accomplished  in  regard  to  woman, 
and  the  consideration  attached  to  her,  than  in 
any  other  particulars  touching  the  interests  of 
the  human  race.  Its  influence  has  been  rela- 
tively greater  on  woman,  than  on  man.  It  had 
more  to  do  for  her  in  view  of  her  previous  de-* 
pression.  It  has  especially  noticed  her  in  the 
records  of  its  early  history.  The  Son  of  God 
showed  singular  benignity  towards  the  sex,  in 
condescendingly  noticing  the  Marthas  and  Ma- 
ries, the  Joannas  and  Susannahs  of  Galilee; 
and  in  graciously  receiving  and  rewarding  their 
ministrations  to  his  necessities.  He  showed 
herein  the  estimation  in  which  the  character- 
istic excellence  of  the  sex  should  be  held  by  all 
mankind.  Wherever  the  spirit  of  Christ  has 
prevailed  in  the  world,  a  similar  consideration 
has  been  bestowed  on  woman.     In  the  purer 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

ages  of  the  church,  she  has  been  the  cherished 
and  honored  vestal,  especially  charged  with  the 
care  of  keeping  alive  the  sacred  flame  of  do- 
mestic piety.  She  has  aided,  in  the  most  ef- 
ficient manner,  by  her  more  silent  and  unobtru- 
sive influence,  the  colder  champions  of  the 
truth,  in  the  other  sex. 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred,  however,  that  in  all 
the  periods  of  Christianity,  the  sex  has  been 
equally  sustained  in  its  rights  and  in  its  dignity, 
or  has  been  equally  useful  to  the  world.  Dur- 
ing the  long  ages  in  which  Christianity  was 
shorn  of  her  glory,  and  darkness  and  corruption 
spread  over  the  nations,  man  and  woman  sunk 
alike  under  the  power  of  the  evil  influences 
which  were  so  generally  experienced.  In  the 
ages  of  chivalry,  woman  indeed  received  suf- 
ficient attention  from  the  men,  but  it  was  an 
attention,  for  the  most  part,  dictated  by  a  wrong 
spirit,  and  bestowed  for  wrong  purposes.  She 
became  the  idol  of  a  disordered  and  wandering 
fancy,  inspiring  no  respect  but  in  view  of  her 
external  charms,  and  of  an  ideal,  unsubstantial 
perfection.  Her  mind  was  uninformed  and 
undisciplined,  left  to  suffer  from  vacancy  of 
thought,  or  given  a  prey  to  all  the  wild  vaga- 
ries of  the  brain.  So  far  as  chivalry  was  a  be- 
neficent institution — and  it  was  better,  perhaps, 
than  the  rudeness  which  preceded    it — so  far 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

she  may  claim  the  honor  of  sustaining  it.  But 
nothing  can  justify  the  sort  of  adoration,  which 
it  was  then  customary  to  pay  to  beauty  and  a 
name.  Immediately  after  the  ages  of  chival- 
ry, women,  in  several  European  countries,  be- 
came profoundly  learned.  Numbers  of  the  sex 
in  Italy,  Spain,  France,  and  England,  shone  in 
the  first  ranks  of  science  and  literature.  They 
became  professors  in  law  and  philosophy,  ac- 
quired skill  in  the  poetic  art,  and  were  adepts 
in  the  learned  languages.  Such  were  Modes- 
ta  di  Pozzi  di  Zori,  of  Bologna,  an  admirable 
poetess  —  Cassandra  Fidele,  of  Venice,  a  lec- 
turer of  philosophy  at  Padua  —  the  two  Isabel- 
las of  Spain,  eminent  as  linguists  and  preach- 
ers, and  one  of  them  honored  with  the  title  of 
doctor  of  divinity  —  the  three  Seymours  of 
England,  excellent  in  Latin  studies  —  Lady 
Jane  Grey,  an  universal  scholar  —  the  eldest 
daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  a  great  Latin- 
ist;  and  several  others,  whose  names  cannot  be 
here  mentioned.  These,  however,  were  indi- 
vidual instances  of  greatness,  while  as  yet  the 
state  of  female  society  at  large  was  low  and 
depressed.  In  later  times,  as  the  influence  of 
the  Gospel  has  become  more  conspicuous,  es- 
pecially since  the  period  of  the  Reformation, 
the  importance  of  the  intellectual  and  moral 
culture  of  females  has  been  more  sensibly  felt. 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

and  continues  daily,  in  many  countries,  to  re- 
ceive more  and  more  attention.  As  a  conse- 
quence, the  character  and  influence  of  women 
have  been  constantly  rising,  and  now  rank 
among  the  mightiest  means  of  producing  those 
great  moral  changes,  that  distinguish  the  age 
in  which  we  live.  To  enumerate  the  eminent 
women  of  modern  ages  —  persons,  who  have 
shone  in  the  accomplishments  of  the  under- 
standing and  the  heart,  cannot  be  necessary  to 
give  an  idea  of  the  advance  of  the  sex,  in  the 
scale  of  intellectual  and  moral  worth.  The 
names  are  every  day  before  the  public. 

If  we  look  for  the  source  of  the  influence 
which  woman  now  exerts,  and  which  she  was 
originally  fitted  to  exert,  in  forming  the  char- 
acter and  destiny  of  mankind  —  if  we  look  for 
the  source  of  her  influence  particularly  in  the 
relation  of  mother,  we  shall  be  able  to  trace  it 
to  the  following  principles,  among  others. 

1.  The  close  companionship  which  she  holds 
ivith  the  junior  members  of  the  family  gives  her 
a  large  share  of  influence.  The  mother  —  the 
true  mother,  is  emphatically  at  home.  She 
lives  at  home,  and  nowhere  else.  Here  is  her 
dominion,  and  here  are  her  cares,  duties  and 
enjoyments.  She  is  constantly  employed  about 
the  affairs  of  the  family,  directing  and  control- 
ling them  according  to  her  will  and  judgment. 


24  INTKODUCTlOiX. 

That  minute  inspection  of  domestic  concerns  — 
that  assiduous  attention  to  the  wants,  conduct, 
pleasures,  and  griefs  of  the  children  —  that  su- 
pervision of  their  unfolding  intellects,  and  that 
forming  of  their  moral  principles,  which,  by  the 
ordinance  of  Heaven  and  the  consent  of  all 
ages,  have  been  assigned  to  her,  necessarily 
make  her  more  the  companion  of  the  young, 
than  the  father  can  be.  She  mingles  in  their 
pursuits  —  her  hand  is  everywhere  visible  in 
fitting  up  the  little  comforts  of  the  household  — 
her  absence,  when  it  providentially  occurs,  is 
noticed,  as  if  the  tutelary  genius  of  the  place 
was  withdrawn,  and  nothing  can  be  successful- 
ly carried  on,  and  nothing  can  be  fully  enjoyed, 
till  her  return.  Thus  keeping  up  an  endear- 
ing correspondence,  with  all  the  internal  me- 
chanism of  the  family,  she  acquires  an  intim.ate 
acquaintance  with  their  hearts.  Hence  her  in- 
fluence is  nearly  unbounded.  She  holds  in  her 
hands,  in  an  important  sense,  the  present  and 
eternal  welfare  of  the  interesting  beings  com- 
mitted to  her  charge. 

2.  The  influence  of  women,  especially  of 
mothers,  may  be  traced,  also,  to  iheir^  keen  sensi- 
bility —  //leir  2^cculiar  'power  of  sympathy.  Who, 
so  devotedly  as  a  mother,  is  the  friend  that  in- 
terests herself  in  the  group  of  beings,  which 
surround  her  —  that  feels  for  them  in  every 
condition  —  whose    countenance    lightens    up 


INTRODUCTIOxV. 


■with  joy  when  they  are  pleased,  or,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  benignant  sorrow,  soothes  the  dis- 
tresses which  they  suffer!     Who,  on  earth,  is 
such  a  comforter  as  a  mother,  and  whose  bosom 
is  pervaded  and  thrilled,  by  the  call  of  danger 
or  suffering,  like  hers?     To  the  relief  of  her 
offspring  she   flies,   heedless  equally  of  expo- 
sure, or  of  toil;   and  v/ith  a  fortitude,  and  some- 
times with  a  strength,  which  seems  to  be  more 
than  she  could   possibly  summon,  she  rescues 
her  darling  from  the  jaws  of  death.     Over  the 
sick  bed  she  bends  with  an  unwearied  and  un- 
exhausted sympathy.     She  keeps  her  nightly 
vigils  where  her  dear  ones  slumber,  or  suffer — 
marks  the  first  symptoms  of  returning  health, 
with  unmingled  grateful  delight — or   notices 
the  accession  of  disease,  only  with  the  deter- 
mination to  meet  the  exigency,  with  redoubled 
labors.     Viewing  the  mother  in  this  light,  it  is 
by  no  means  surprising,  that  she   controls  the 
hearts  of  those  that  are  about  her  —  that  she 
becomes  the  life  and  soul  of  the  domestic  cir- 
cle—  and  forms  the  great  bond  of  union  in  the 
family,  and  throughout  the  community.     From 
her,  as  a  living  fountain,  flow  forth  the  thou- 
sand tendernesses  that  refresh  and  gladden  the 
heart.     Around  her,   cluster  the   innumerable 
courtesies  and  amenities  that  adorn  and  sweet- 
en life. 

3 


26  INTRODUCTION. 

3.  A  woman's  and  a  mother's  influence  arises' 
from  her  nice  discrimination  of  character,  and  her 
perfect  knoivledge  of  the  causes  bij  which  char- 
acter is  affected.  Her  situation  and  her  pur- 
suits, surrounded  as  she  is  by  beings  depen- 
dent on  her  care,  and  looking  to  her  for  direc- 
lion,  habituate  her  to  judge  of  the  disposition 
and  motives  of  the  heart.  They  qualify  her  to 
calculate  the  effect  of  influences,  that  operate 
upon  the  feelings  and  conduct  of  children. 
She  is  led  by  the  ever-varying  exigencies, 
which  arise  in  the  management  of  young  minds, 
to  distinguish  with  accuracy  the  differences 
of  character  —  to  mark  minutely  its  several 
shades.  The  regard  with  which  a  virtuous  fe- 
male has  for  her  own  character,  induces  her  to 
weigh  carefully  the  causes  by  which  character 
is  affected.  She  has  usually  a  quick  and  keen 
apprehension  of  the  dangers  incident  to  the 
precious  boon  of  reputation.  She,  therefore, 
not  only  guards  it  with  care  in  her  own  case, 
but  becomes  peculiarly  qualified  to  guide  others 
io  the  acquisition  or  preservation  of  a  good 
name.  She  becomes  eminently  fitted  to  guide 
her  children,  and,  in  efl^ect,  she  forms  their  char- 
acter to  virtue  and  religion,  under  the  blessing 
of  God.  We  speak  of  the  virtuous  —  the  re- 
ligious mother  —  one  whose  spirit  and  conduct 
are  regulated  by  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel. 


INTRODUCTION.  27 

Her  power  of  discrimination  and  judgment,  in 
the  management  and  education  of  the  young, 
is  an  essential  element  of  her  salutary  influ- 
ence. It  greatly  contributes  to  the  extent  of 
that  influence.  Indeed,  all  mothers  —  they  who 
pervert,  as  well  as  they  who  improve,  the  above 
mentioned  attribute,  hold  the  character  and  of 
course,  the  destiny  of  their  children,  very  much 
in  their  own  hands.  Under  God,  they  are  pe- 
•culiarly  responsible  for  its  exercise,  and  for  the 
moral  power  which  it  confers  upon  them. 

4.  The  influence  we  speak  of  is  to  be  further 
traced,  io  the  ivinning  sweetness  and  ddicacy  of 
manner,  which  characterize  ivoman's  intercourse 
in  domestic  life.  The  sacred  regard  thence  in- 
spired for  her  feelings  and  wishes,  is  one  of  the 
first  principles  imbibed,  in  a  well  regulated 
nursery.  None  but  the  most  hardened  mind, 
can  be  found  to  trifle  with  the  affections  of  such 
a  being.  It  is  treason  against  nature  wantonly 
to  inflict  pain  on  a  mother.  It  requires  a  har- 
dihood —  a  baseness  —  a  recklessness  of  soul, 
seldom  known  to  the  young,  to  meet  her  smiles 
and  caresses  with  contempt  and  cruelty.  Na- 
ture, not  to  say  conscience,  in  almost  every  hu- 
man bosom,  pleads  too  powerfully  in  her  be- 
half, on  this  account,  not  to  do  reverence  to 
such  goodness.  The  stern  authority  of  the 
father,  is  sometimes  mot  with  the  hiijh  bearinjr 


28  INTRODUCTION. 

of  an  unsubdued  temper.  The  child  feels,  if 
he  has  the  courage,  that  he  may  treat  loss  scru- 
pulously the  power  which  peremptorily  forbids 
his  wishes,  than  he  does  the  mother's  winning, 
though  it  may  be,  firm  address.  Pride  and 
passion  are  often  excited  and  measured,  against 
the  rough  and  uncompromising  control  of  the 
father;  but  the  pleading,  the  bland,  yet  truly 
dignified  manner  of  a  judicious  mother,  urging 
her  children  to  a  virtuous  course,  how  much 
more  likely  to  take  effect!  r>Iany  a  young  man, 
for  a  time  abandoned  and  given  to  sin,  like 
John  Newton,  has  recalled  the  image  and  the 
precepts  of  maternal  tenderness,  and  thus  bro- 
ken away  from  the  influences  that  had  separated 
him  from  God  and  his  duty.  Such  an  instru- 
mentality, then,  God  has  ordained  for  the  best 
of  purposes,  and  it  becomes  us  ever  to  acknowl- 
edge the  mighty  efficacy,  which  he  has  attach- 
ed to  it,  through  his  providence  and  Spirit. 

5.  The  more  extensive  prevalence  of  piety 
among  females  and  mothers,  accounts  for  the  in- 
fluence which  attends  them,  as  it  also  throws  a 
peculiar  lustre  over  their  character.  Of  all  the 
sources  of  a  mother's  influence,  this  must  be 
by  far  the  greatest.  It  begins  the  earliest,  for 
it  breathes  its  prayer  before  the  infant  can  be 
conscious  of  its  meaning,  but  not  before  God 
can  answer  it.     It  strikes  its  root  the  deepest; 


INTRODUCTION.  29 

for  where  piety  exists  in  tlie  maternal  bosom,  it 
is  the  most  active  and  efficient  of  all  the  prin- 
ciples tliat  govern  it.  It  will  manifest  itself  in 
unceasing  eiibrts,  to  bring  the  infant  mind  un- 
der the  power  of  the  Gospel.  The  habitual  ex- 
hibition of  the  Christian  spirit,  in  its  most  at- 
tractive forms,  produces  a  silent  but  most  im- 
portant effect,  on  the  little  beings  that  watch 
every  movement  of  her,  whom  they  are  apt  to  re- 
gard as  their  dearest  and  most  intimate  friend. 
Facts  show  the  striking  results  of  maternal 
piety,  in  its  influence  over  the  minds  of  chil- 
dren, bringing  them  at  length  into  the  M'ays  of 
holiness  and  salvation,  through  the  grace  of  a 
prayer-hearing  God.  The  history  of  the  church 
points  to  the  names  of  Augustine,  Matthew 
Henry,  Col.  Gardiner,  John  Newton,  Timo- 
thy Dwight,  Richard  Cecil,  and  many  others, 
as  principally  indebted  to  the  influence  of  god- 
ly mothers,  for  their  experimental  acquaintance 
with  the  religion  of  the  Bible,  and  for  their  dis- 
tinguished usefulness  to  mankind.  When  such 
are  the  fruits  of  maternal  piety,  we  can  scarce- 
ly rate  its  importance  too  high:  it  is  the  crown- 
ing effect  of  woman's  influence.  That  instan- 
ces of  consecration,  and  signal  consecration  to 
the  service  of  God,  especially  in  its  action  on 
the  domestic  constitution,  are  far  more  frequent 
in  the  sex,  than  among  the  men,  we  suppose 
3* 


30  INTRODUCTION. 

will  be  readily  granted  by  all,  who  have  taken 
the  pains  to  inspect  the  features  of  the  reli- 
gious world,  or  who  are  familiar  with  the  statis- 
tics of  evangelical  churches.  In  the  affection- 
ate and  efficient  piety  of  woman,  God  has  ap- 
pointed one  of  the  most  important  means,  of  the 
moral  renovation  of  the  young,  and  the  per- 
petuation of  religion  in  the  human  race. 

Having  traced,  in  several  particulars,  the 
source  of  that  influence,  which,  through  wo- 
man, and  especially  the  mother,  is  employed  in 
forming  the  character,  and  determining  the  des- 
tinies  of  mankind,  we  will  dwell,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, on  the  probable  effect  of  such  influence, 
wherever  it  is  duly  exerted.  We  will  show 
what  may  be  expected,  on  a  general  scale,  from 
the  faithful  application  of  a  mother's  power,  in 
regard  to  the  welfare  of  its  objects. 

What  would  not  the  world  soon  become  un- 
der auspices  of  this  kind?  We  may  better  ar- 
rive, perhaps,  at  a  just  conception  of  the  result, 
by  viewing  the  case  first  of  an  individual.  Of 
what  importance  is  it  that  he  should  have  an 
enlightened,  godly,  praying  mother!  His  in- 
tellectual and  moral  character,  his  usefulness 
and  happiness,  his  eternal  life  may  be  literally 
suspended,  on  the  exertions  of  such  a  mother. 
Are  not  the  feelings  and  associations  of  his  in- 
fancy and  childhood,  what  she  makes  them.^ 


INTRODUCTION.  31 

Does  he  soon  forget  how  he  was  fanglit  from 
her  lips,  to  fold  his  hands,  and  bend  his  knees, 
and  repeat,  '*  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven?" 
Is  not  the  scene,  at  times,  present  to  his  mind, 
when  he  was  accustomed  to  retire  with  her  to 
the  chamber  of  prayer,  and  required  to  bow 
down  with  her,  and  join  in  her  supplications 
unto  the  Hearer  of  prayer?  And  will  he  not, 
as  he  arrives  at  maturity,  recal  many  of  the 
impressive  lessons  and  warnings  which  paren- 
tal, maternal  love  administered  to  him,  in  the 
careless  and  wayward  period  of  his  youth? 
Surely  these  things  are  not  easily  forgotten, 
while  at  the  same  time,  the  character  has  been 
silently  forming  under  their  influence.  The 
great  and  good  men  of  all  times  have  been 
reared  by  such  a  process.  We  must  ask  moth- 
ers especially,  whether  our  sons  and  daughters 
shall  be  distinguished  for  their  virtues,  their 
talents,  and  their  usefulness.  We  must  ask  a 
Hannah,  and  a  Eunice,  for  that  fear  of  the  Lord 
which  brings  up  a  Samuel  and  a  Timothy,  to 
perform  the  high  duties  of  ministers  of  religion. 
W^e  must  ask  a  Mary  Washington,  for  that  dig- 
nified virtue,  and  energy  of  character,  which 
reared  a  patriot  hero.  On  the  other  hand,  sup- 
pose the  mother  is  not  pious,  is  a  woman  of  the 
world,  or  a  devotee  of  a  spurious  Christianity: 
what  unhappy    impressions   will  she  make  on 


32  INTRODUCTION. 

the  mind  of  her  tender  charge!  How  given, 
probably,  will  he  be  to  vanity,  and  sin,  and 
pleasure  —  checked  by  no  remonstrances  — 
awed  by  no  example,  of  maternal  wisdom  and 
holiness!  How  will  his  headlong  passions  be 
ministered  to  —  his  corrupt  appetites  be  pam- 
pered, by  the  foolish  fondness  or  the  inconsid- 
erate impatience  of  a  selfish,  worldly,  prayer- 
less  mother!  And  do  the  children  of  that  mis- 
guided and  misguiding  Catholic  woman,  who, 
on  entering  a  church,  bows  to  the  images  of 
the  saints,  and  teaches  them  to  bow,  also,  ever 
lose  the  impression  made  on  their  minds  —  do 
they  ever  forget  the  lessons  of  a  baneful  su- 
perstition? How  necessary,  then,  if  the  seeds 
of  virtue,  self-government,  truth,  intelligence, 
and  piety  are  to  be  implanted,  and  to  grow  with 
a  person's  growth,  that  he  should  be  blessed 
with  the  prayers  and  assiduities  of  an  enlight- 
ened, and  efficiently  pious  mother!  How  im- 
portant that  he  should  not  be  cursed  with  a 
vain,  giddy,  uninformed,  unconscientious,  un- 
devout  mother! 

The  importance  of  maternal  influence,  of  the 
kind  here  described,  is  greatly  enhanced,  when 
we  consider  it  in  reference  to  an  entire  family. 
Commonly  not  one  individual  alone  is  affected, 
but  a  number  feel  the  salutary  control.  And  if 
we  contemplate  a  whole  family  of  children,  as 


INTRODUCTION.  33 

brought  under  the  blessed  influence  of  exem- 
plary, maternal  piety,  its  effects  must  be  of  cor- 
responding importance.  In  this  point  of  view, 
how  essential  is  it  that  Christian  principle,  an 
informed  understanding,  and,  if  it  may  be,  na- 
tive good  sense,  should  be  the  high  character- 
istics of  the  female  head  of  a  family!  She  may 
favorably  affect  her  whole  household.  She  will 
probably  have  a  degree  of  influence  on  the 
whole  number,  for  their  good.  Her  children 
will  be  trained  in  the  way  they  should  go,  and 
when  they  are  old,  they  will  probably  not  de- 
part from  it.  Iler  authority  and  care  will  pro- 
duce submission,  docility,  sweetness  of  temper, 
and  harmony  of  intercourse,  throughout  the 
subjects  of  her  little  dominion.  Order,  method, 
neatness,  despatch,  frugality,  and  thrift  will 
wait  upon  her  steps.  Her  domestic  plans,  and 
the  spirit  with  which  she  carries  them  into  op- 
eration, will  ensure,  if  any  instrumentality  will 
do  it,  obedience,  virtue,  and  intelligence  among 
her  endearing  charge;  and  as  they  grow  in 
years,  "the  fair  forms  of  truth  and  sentiment," 
with  the  love  of  which  she  has  inspired  them, 
will  be  more  clearly  inscribed  on  their  minds. 
Or,  if  there  happens  to  be  a  wanderer  among 
the  precious  flock,  and  obstinacy,  love  of  mis- 
chief, and  addiction  to  vice  mark  him  for  their 
victim,  then,  how  faithfully  will  he  be  followed 


34  INTRODUCTION. 

up  by  the  advice,  entreaties,  warnings,  and 
prayers  of  the  pious  inmates  of  the  household, 
especially  the  mother,  until,  if  it  may  be, 
through  the  great  mercy  of  God,  he  shall  be  re- 
stored to  the  fold.  And  suppose  all  of  a  family 
actually  to  become  converts  to  righteousness, 
under  the  means  that  have  been  employed  with 
children,  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  reason,  with 
a  view  to  produce  such  an  effect,  how  indescri- 
bably important  must  be  the  event!  How  de- 
lightful the  sight  of  a  whole  family  devoted  to 
God!  What  elements  of  happiness  does  not 
such  a  little  community  include!  What  an 
amount  of  usefulness  will  it  not  be  the  honor- 
ed instrument  of  achieving!  What  a  beautiful 
representative  would  it  not  be  of  heaven,  as 
heaven  would  certainly  be  its  eternal  home! 

Finally,  if  we  look  at  a  countrij  where  pious 
mothers  abound  —  if  we  select  a  nation  of  such 
families  as  these  mothers  might  be  supposed  to 
make,  the  importance  of  the  influence  exerted, 
will  appear  in  a  still  more  conspicuous  light. 
It  would  strike  the  mind  with  an  overpowering 
force.  Let  the  mothers  of  a  country  be  en- 
dowed with  intelligence  and  moral  worth,  and 
how  confidently  might  we  not  expect,  that  they 
would  mould  the  mass  to  virtue,  to  order,  and 
to  happiness!  The  sources  of  most  of  the  evils 
in  society  would  be  dried  up  —  intemperance, 


INTRODUCTION.  35 

impurity,  profaneness,  sabbath-breaking,  and 
other  vice?  would  be  checked,  at  that  critical 
period  of  life  when  it  could  be  most  effectually 
done  —  the  means  of  pure  and  rational  enjoy- 
ment would  be  immensely  multiplied  —  hones- 
ty, truth,  integrity,  benevolence,  and  every  vir- 
tue that  goes  to  constitute  worth  of  character, 
would  extensively  prevail  —  children  would  be 
sanctified,  for  the  most  part,  in  very  early  life  — 
streams  of  salvation  would  flow  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  land  —  and  hosts  of 
champions  of  the  cross  would  go  forth  to  other 
nations,  to  subdue  them  unto  truth  and  holiness. 
The  example  of  one  such  nation  would  awe 
the  world.  Its  influence  would  go  far  towards 
the  world's  conversion. 


ANECDOTES,  &c. 


THE  TRACT  AND  THE  POCKET  BIBLE. 

Mr.  L.  was  a  young  man  of  uncommon 
abilities.  With  much  of  that  enthusiastic  tem- 
perament, peculiar  to  the  southern  constitution, 
he  possessed  a  disposition  frank,  generous,  and 
social.  Few  young  men  ever  entered  the 
world  with  greater  advantages.  To  a  mind 
highly  cultivated,  was  added  a  conversational 
talent  of  a  commanding  order,  which,  together 
with  family  connexions  of  extensive  influence, 
gave  him  a  decided  superiority  over  many  of 
those  with  whom  he  associated.  His  amiable 
disposition,  particularly,  secured  him  an  inter- 
est in  the  friendship  of  the  youth  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

It  may  be  easily  imagined,  that  the  influence 
of  such  a  youih  is  almost  as  extensive  as  his 
acquaintance.  Young  men  will  have  compan- 
ions for  their  sports,  and  their  social  hours; 
and  the  individual,  in  whom  genius,  acquire- 
ments and  manners  unite,  generally  gives  tone 
4 


38  THE    TRACT    AND    POCKET    BIBLE. 

to  the  feeling,  and  direction  to  the  conversation 
in  the  circle  in  which  he  moves;  his  opinions 
are  received  and  repeated,  and  his  spirit  im- 
bibed. 

In  the  early  part  of  youth,  Mr.  L.  had  drunk 
deep  from  the  stream  of  infidelity.  Pursuing 
his  studies  at  a  distance  from  home,  beyond  the 
immediate  control  of  parental  authority,  and 
surrounded  with  circumstances  rather  hostile 
to  the  influence  of  parental  advice,  he  gradu- 
ally forgot  the  pious  lessons  received  from  a 
godly  mother,  and  finally  succeeded  in  persuad- 
ing himself,  that  the  Bible  is  'priestcraft,  and  the 
holy  tendency  of  its  doctrines,  delusion.  He 
returned  to  the  parental  roof,  a  fine  looking, 
well  educated  young  gentleman,  but  a  confirm- 
ed infidel. 

He  ill  concealed  from  the  solicitude  of  a 
mother,  the  change  of  his  opinions,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion.  She  trembled,  and  even  wept, 
at  the  discovery;  but  her  tears  served  only  to 
excite  his  pity  for  her  weakness  and  supersti- 
tion. 

Months  passed  on.  How  he  figured  among 
the  gay  and  the  vain,  how  his  sentiments  were 
received  and  respected,  by  both  male  and  fe- 
male, need  not  here  be  mentioned — the  extent  of 
the  injury,  which  his  infidelity  has  occasioned, 
can  never  in  this  life  be  unfolded.  Yet,  in  all 
this,  he  was  an  affectionate  son,  and  an  amiable 
man — beloved  and  caressed  by  all,  who  enjoy- 
ed his  acquaintance.  The  mother  could  not  but 
rejoice  in  having  a  son,  so  high  minded  and 
honorable;  yet  she  could  not  help  but  weep, 
that  his  heart  was  wedded  to  infidel  principles.. 


THE    TRACT    AND    POCKET    BTBLE.  39 

This  one  thought  embittered  all  her  joy — her 
son  scornfully  rejected  her  blessed  Saviour. 
The  midnigiit  hour  witnessed  her  tears  and 
prayers,  for  the  conversion  of  her  ungodly  child. 
Never  did  she  forget,  before  the  throne  of  grace, 
her  infidel  son.  But  it  seemed,  for  a  time,  that 
God  designed  not  to  answer  her  prayers.  Fre- 
quently, her  heart  almost  yielded  to  despair,  for 
tear  that  her  son  was  given  up  to  "  a  reprobate 
mind." 

JMr.  L.,  after  having  been  at  home  a  few 
montiis,  married  and  settled  on  his  own  planta- 
tion, near  the  residence  of  his  mother.  He 
now  became  more  domestic  in  his  habits,  more 
grave  and  serious  in  his  deportment,  but  con- 
tinued an  avowed  advocate  of  infidelity. 

One  day,  in  a  musing  frame  of  mind,  walk- 
ing round  his  mill  pond,  his  glance  fell  on  a  leaf 
of  paper,  near  the  edge  of  the  water.  He  care- 
lessly picked  it  up,  and  a  few  steps  further,  he 
picked  up  two  or  three  more.  He  now  had  in 
his  hand  a  comjjlete  tract,  which,  perhaps,  the 
winds  of  heaven  had  blown  to  that  spot.  HaV' 
ing  arranged  the  separate  leaves,  as  he  walk- 
ed, he  read.  Becoming  interested,  he  read  the 
tract  through.  The  little  thing  spoke  of  God — 
it  spoke  of  the  Bible — it  spoke  of  eternity. 
Again  he  read  it — and  feelings  awoke  in  his  bo- 
som, which  he  thought  had  been  annihilated. 
Having  arrived  at  his  house,  he  again  read  the 
tract.  He  paused  and  thought — deeply  thought, 
— '' i^  this  be  all  true,  what — ?"  The  idea 
was  too  awful,  he  would  not  pursue  it;  he  rose 
and  paced  the  floor.  Now,  for  the  first  time 
perhaps  in  his  life,  he  felt  an  anxious  desire  to 


40  THE    TRACT    AND    POCKET    BIBLE. 

look  into  a  Bible.  But  in  his  well-furnished  li- 
brary, that  precious  book  was  not  to  be  found. 
The  pocket  Bible,  which  he  called  his  own, 
when  a  boy,  was  now  in  the  book-case  at  his 
mother's  residence.  His  mother  had  often  ur- 
ged him  to  take  it  home,  but  no!  he  had  no  use 
for  such  books,  "  I  will  send,"  said  he,  quite 
aloud,  "and  borrow  one."  But  no !  that  will 
expose  my  weakness.  "  Yes,"  catching  at  the 
thought  suggested  by  the  word  last  uttered, 
"yes,  it  is  weakness — I  will  not  submit  to  it. 
Have  I  not  lived  satisfied  with  my  principles.'' 
What  reason  have  I  now  to  distrust  them? 
Strange  that  reading  this  tract  should  so  disturb 
my  composure!  I  see  how  it  is,  I  am  indispos- 
ed,— have  been  unwell  all  the  morning — I  will 
throw  the  tract  aside,  and  think  no  more  of 
these  matters." 

But  the  tract  was  not  to  be  put  off  in  this 
manner; — it  had  seized  on  the  spirit  of  a  stub- 
born sinner;  it  grappled  with  his  infidel  princi- 
ples. It  gave  no  ground;  *he  contest  was  long 
and  serious.  The  tract  was  read  over  once 
more,  and  it  triumphed.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I 
will  have  a  Bible.'' 

He  recollected  the  pocket  Bible  at  his  moth- 
er's. He  thought,  too,  that  it  was  possible  to 
obtain  this  Bible,  without  exciting  suspicion  in 
his  mother's  family.  For  this  purpose,  he  step- 
ped over  to  her  residence. 

The  perturbation  of  mind  discovered  itself  in 
his  countenance,  which  alarmed  the  fears  of  his 
mother  for  the  healtli  of  a  son,  who  had  caused 
her  so  much  solicitude.  Eager  were  her  inquiries 
as  to  his  health;  and  his  reply,  that  he  was  well, 


THE    TRACT    AND   POCKET    BIBLE.  41 

had  no  tendency  to  remove  her  fears.  The 
sole  object  of  IMr.  T^.  in  paying  this  visit,  was 
secretly  to  secure  the  pocket  Bible;  several 
anxious  glances  therefore,  were  directed  to- 
wards the  book-case.  These  glances,  observ- 
ed by  the  mother,  gave  a  different  turn  to  her 
thoughts.  She  looked,  for  a  moment,  intently 
at  his  countenance — could  it  be  possible.^  The 
idea  did  force  itself  upon  her  mind,  and  she  al- 
most sunk  under  it.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  had  found  her  lost  child,  and 
that  he  was  now  operating  upon  his  heart? 
Hope  and  fear  were  too  strong  in  her  bosom. 
Like  Joseph,  she  left  the  room,  in  order  to  give 
way  to  a  burst  of  feeling.  Pious  mothers  of  in- 
fidel sons  alone  are  capable  of  judging  of  her 
emotions  at  this  time.  She  knew  that  her  son 
had  refused  to  have  a  Bible  in  his  house. 
Those  anxious  glances  did  give  rise  to  the  idea, 
that  he  had  come  for  the  Bible,  which  she  had 
many  times  urged  him  to  take.  There  it  now 
stood, — the  pocket  Bible,  from  which,  in  his 
boyhood;  he  had  so  often  read  to  her. 

After  giving  vent  to  her  tears,  the  tears  of 
hope  and  fear,  and  after  having  poured  out  her 
soul  before  God,  she  recovered  in  some  degree 
her  composure.  Again,  like  Joseph,  she  en- 
tered tiie  room — her  son  had  departed — she 
sprang  towards  the  book  case — the  pocket  Bible 
2vas  2;one. 

I  have  the  happiness  of  adding  that  Mr.  L. 
is  now  a  member  of  a  gospel  church.  He  re- 
pented in  sackcloth  and  ashes  of  his  former  hos- 
tility to  Jesus  of  Nazareth;  and  in  the  course 
of  some  weeks,  he  found  peace  in  believing  in 
4* 


42  THE    RIGHTEOUS    NEVER    FORSAKEN. 

the  Saviour,  whom  he  had  scornfuHy  rejected. 
If  he  was  once  zealous  in  scattering  tlie  poison 
of  infidelity^  he  is  now  doubly  so,  by  his  walk 
and  conversation,  in  advocating  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel. 

From  examples  like  this,  let  mothers  take 
courage,  God  may,  indesd,  long  try  their  faith 
and  patience;  but  the  promise  is  sure,  "Call 
upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  I  will  an- 
swer thee,  and  thou  shalt  glorify  me."  Prayer 
is  never  lost — faith  never  goes  unrewarded: — 

*  Though  seed  lie  buried  long  in  dust, 

It  slian't  deceive  our  hope  ; 
The  precioup  grain  can  ne'er  be  lost, 

For  grace  insures  the  crop.' 


THE  RIGHTEOUS  NEVER  FORSAKEN. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  and  the  widow  of  the 
Pine  Cottage  sat  by  her  blazing  faggots,  with 
her  five  tattered  children  at  her  side,  endeavor- 
ing by  listening  to  the  artlessness  of  their  ju- 
venile prattle,  to  dissipate  the  heavy  gloom,  that 
pressed  upon  her  mind.  For  a  year  her  own 
feeble  hands  had  provided  for  her  helpless 
family,  for  she  had  no  supporter:  she  thought 
of  no  friend  in  all  the  wide,  unfriendly  world 
around.  But  that  mysterious  Providence,  the 
wisdom  of  whose  ways  are  above  human  com- 
prehension, had  visited  her  with  wasting  sick- 
ness, and  her  little  means  had  become  exhaust- 


THE    RIGHTEOUS    NEVER    FORSAKEN.  43 

ed.  It  was  now,  too,  mid-winter,  and  tlie  snow 
lay  heavy  and  deep  tiirough  all  the  surround- 
ing forests,  while  storms  still  seemed  gathering 
in  the  heavens,  and  the  driving  wind  roared 
amidst  the  hending  pines,  and  rocked  her  puny 
mansion. 

The  last  herring  smoked  upon  the  coals  be- 
fore her:  it  was  the  only  article  of  food  she  pos- 
sessed, and  no  wonder  her  forlorn,  desolate 
state  brought  up  in  her  bosom  all  the  anxieties 
of  a  motlier,  when  she  looked  upon  her  chil- 
dren; and  no  wonder,  forlorn  as  she  was,  if  she 
suffered  the  heart-swellings  of  despair  to  rise, 
even  though  she  knew  that  He  whose  promise 
is  to  the  widow  and  to  the  orphan,  cannot  for- 
get his  word.  Providence  had,  many  years  be- 
fore, taken  from  her,  her  eldest  son,  who  went 
from  his  forest-home,  to  try  his  fortune  on  the 
high  seas,  since  which  she  heard  no  note  or  ti- 
dings of  him;  and  in  latter  time,  had  by  the 
hand  of  denth,  deprived  her  of  the  companion 
and  staff  of  her  worldly  pilgrimage,  in  the  per- 
son of  her  husband.  Yet,  to  this  hour  she  had 
been  upborne,  she  had  not  only  been  able  to 
provide  for  her  little  flock,  but  had  never  lost 
an  opportunity  of  ministering  to  the  wants  of 
the  miserable  and  destitute. 

The  indolent  may  well  bear  with  poverty, 
while  the  ability  to  gain  sustenance  remains. 
The  individual,  who  has  but  his  own  wants  to 
supply,  may  suffer  with  fortitude  the  winter  of 
want;  his  affections  are  not  wounded,  his  heart 
not  wrung.  The  most  desolate  in  populous 
cities  may  hope,  for  charity  has  not  quite  closed 
lier  hand  and  heart,  and  shut  her  eyes  on  mis- 


44  THE    RIGHTEOUS    NEVER    FORSAKEN. 

ery.  Bat  the  industrious  mother  of  helpless 
and  depending  children — far  from  the  reach  of 
human  charity,  has  none  of  these  to  console 
her.  And  such  an  one  was  the  widow  of  the 
Pine  Cottage ;  but,  as  she  bent  over  the  fire  and 
took  up  the  last  scanty  remnant  of  food  to 
spread  before  her  children,  her  spirits  seemed 
to  brighten  up,  as  by  some  sudden  and  myste-^ 
rious  impulse,  and  Cowper's  beautiful  lines 
came  uncalled  across  her  mind — 

'  Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace  ; 
Behind  a  frowning  Providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face.' 

The  smoked  herring  was  hardly  laid  upon 
the  table,  when  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door,  and 
the  loud  barking  of  a  doo;,  attracted  the  atten- 
tion  of  the  family.  The  children  flew  to  open 
it,  and  a  weary  traveller,  in  tattered  garments, 
and  apparently  indifferent  health,  entered  and 
begged  a  lodging,  and  a  mouthful  of  food;  said 
he,  "it  is  now  twenty-four  hours  since  1  tasted 
bread."  The  widow's  heart  bled  anew,  as  un- 
der a  fresh  complication  of  distresses;  for  her 
sympathies  lingered  not  round  her  fireside. 
She  hesitated  not  even  now ;  a  place  to  rest  and 
a  share  of  all  she  had,  she  proffered  to  the 
stranger.  '*  We  shall  not  be  forsaken,"  said 
she,  '*  or  suffer  deeper  for  an  act  of  charity." 

The  traveller  drew  near  the  board — but  when 
he  saw  the  scanty  fare,  he  raised  his  eyes  to- 
ward heaven  with  astonishment — *'  And  is  this 
all  your  store.?  "  said  he — "  and  a  share  of  this 
(do    you    offer   to   one   you  know   not?     Then 


THE    RIGHTEOUS    NEVER    FORSAKEN.  45 

never  saw  I  charity  before !  but  madam,"  said  he, 
continuiniT,  *'do  you  not  wrong  your  children, 
by  giving  a  part  of  your  last  mouthful  to  a 
stranger?"  "Ah"  said  the  poor  widow,  and 
the  tear  drops  gushed  into  her  eyes,  as  she  said 
it,  *'  I  have  a  boy,  a  darling  son,  somewhere  on 
the  face  of  the  wide  world,  unless  Heaven  has 
taken  him  away,  and  I  only  act  towards  you,  as 
I  would  that  others  should  act  towards  him. 
God,  who  sent  manna  from  heaven,  can  pro- 
vide for  us,  as  he  did  for  Israel — and  how 
should  1  this  night  offend  him,  if  my  son  should 
be  a  wanderer,  destitute  as  you,  and  he  should 
have  provided  for  him  a  home  even  poor  as  this 
' — were  I  to  turn  you  unrelieved  away?" 

The  widow  ended,  and  the  stranger  spring- 
ing from  his  seat,  clasped  her  in  his  arms — 
"  God,  indeed,  has  provided  just  such  a  home 
for  your  wandering  sun,  and  has  given  him 
wealth  to  reward  the  goodness  of  his  benefac- 
tress— my  mother!  oh  my  mother." 

It  was  her  long  lost  son,  returned  to  her  bo- 
som from  the  Indies.  He  had  chosen  that  dis- 
guise, that  he  might  the  more  completely  sur- 
prise his  family;  and  never  was  surprise  more 
perfect,  or  followed  by  a  sweeter  cup  of  joy, — 
That  humble  residence  in  the  forest  was  ex- 
changed for  one  comfortable,  and  indeed  beau- 
tiful in  the  valley,  and  the  widow  lived  long 
with  her  dutiful  son,  in  the  enjoyment  of  world- 
ly plenty,  and  in  the  delightful  employments  of 
virtue;  and  at  this  day  the  passer-by  is  point- 
ed to  the  luxuriant  willow  that  spreads  its 
branches  broad  and  green  above  her  grave, 
while  he  listens  to  the  recital  of  this  simple  and 
homely,  but  not  altogether  worthless  tale. 


(  46   ) 


RESIGNATION. 

The  following  lines  were  repeated  to  a  min- 
ister, by  a  poor  and  pious  female,  when  her  hus- 
band appeared  to  be  dying,  leaving  her  with 
nine  children. 

Long  have  I  view'd,  long  have  I  thought, 
And  trembling  held  this  bitter  draught, 
But  now  resolv'd  and  firm  I'll  be, 
Since  'lis  prepar'd  and  mix'd  by  thee  ! 

I'll  trust  my  great  Physician's  skill  ; 
What  he  prescribes  can  ne'er  be  ill ; 
No  longer  will  I  grieve  or  pine  ; 
Thy  pleasure  'tis — it  shall  be  mine. 

Thy  med'cine  oft  produces  smart ; 
Thou  woun'dst  me  in  the  tend'rest  part; 
All  that  I  priz'd  below  is  jjone  ; 
Yet,  Father,  still,  thy  will  be  done. 

Since  'tis  thy  sentence  I  should  part 
With  what  is  nearest  to  my  heart, 
My  little  all  1  here  resign. 
And,  lo,  my  heart  itself  is  thine. 


Take  all,  great  God  ;  I  will  not  grieve, 
But  wish  I  still  had  more  to  give  ; 
I  hear  thy  voice ;  thou  bid'st  me  quit 
This  favor'd  gourd — and  I  submit. 


(47    ) 


POOR  JACK. 

A  drunkard  was  one  day  staggering  in  drink 
on  the  brink  of  the  sea.  His  little  son  by  him, 
three  years  of  age,  being  very  hungry,  solicit- 
ed him  for  something  to  eat.  Tiie  miserable 
father,  conscious  of  his  poverty,  and  of  the 
criminal  cause  of  it,  in  a  kind  of  rage,  occa- 
sioned by  his  intemperance  and  despair,  hurled 
the  little  innocent  into  the  sea,  and  made  off 
with  himself.  The  poor  little  sufferer,  finding 
a  floating  plank  by  his  side  on  the  water  clung 
to  it.  The  wind  soon  wafted  him  with  the  plank 
out  to  sea.  A  British  man  of  war,  passing  by, 
discovered  the  plank  and  child;  and  a  sailor  at 
the  risk  of  his  life,  plunged  into  the  sea,  and 
brought  him  on  board.  He  could  inform  them 
little  more  than  that  his  name  was  Jack.  They 
gave  him  the  name  of  poor  Jack.  He  grew  up 
on  board  that  man  of  war,  behaved  well,  and 
pained  the  love  of  all  the  officers  and  men. 
He  became  an  officer  of  the  sick  and  wounded 
department.  During  an  action  of  the  late  war, 
an  aged  man  came  under  his  care,  nearly  in  a 
dying  state.  He  was  all  kindness  and  atten- 
tion to  the  suffering  stranger,  but  could  not 
save  his  life.  The  aged  parent  was  dying,  and 
thus  addressed  this  kind  young  officer:  "  For 
the  great  attention  you  have  shown  me,  1  give 
you  this  only  treasure  I  am  possessed  of,  (pre- 
senting him  with  a  Bible,  bearing  the  stamp  of 
the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society.)  It  was 
given  me  by  a  lady ;  has  been  the  means  of  my 


48  INFLUENCE    OF    EARLY    IMPRESSIONS. 

conversion ;  and  has  been  a  great  comfort  to  me. 
Read  it;  it  will  lead  you  in  the  way  you  should 
go."  He  went  on  to  confess  the  wickedness 
and  profligacy  of  his  life  before  the  reception 
of  his  Bible;  and,  among  other  enormities, 
how  he  once  cast  a  little  son,  three  years  old,  in- 
to the  sea,  because  he  cried  to  him  for  needed 
food!  the  young  officer  inquired  of  him  the 
time  and  place,  and  found  here  was  his  own  his- 
tory. Reader,  judge  if  you  can,  of  his  feel- 
ings, to  recognize  in  this  dying  old  man,  his 
own  father,  dying  a  penitent  under  his  care! 
And,  judge  of  the  feelings  of  the  dying  peni- 
tent, to  find  that  the  same  kind  young  stranger 
was  his  son,  the  very  son  whom  he  plunged  in- 
to the  sea,  and  had  no  idea  but  he  immediate- 
ly perished !  A  description  of  their  mutual  feel- 
ings will  not  be  attempted.  The  old  man  soon 
expired  in  the  arms  of  his  son.  The  latter  left 
the  service,  and  became  a  pious  preacher  of 
the  Gospel.  On  closing  this  story,  the  minister 
in  the  meeting  of  the  Bible  Society,  bowed  to 
the  chairman,  and  said,  "  Sir,  I  am  poorJack.'^ 


INFLUENCE  OF  EARLY  IMPRESSIONS. 

It  is  reported  of  a  man,  eminent  for  his  tal- 
ents, his  elevated  situation  in  life,  and  his  dis- 
sipation, that  one  evening,  while  sitting  at  the 
gaming-table,  he  was  observed  to  be  unusually 
sad.     His  associates  rallied  him  upon  his  seri- 


INFLUENCE    OF    EARLY    mrRESSIONS.         49 

ous  aspect.  He  endeavored,  by  rousing  him- 
self, and  by  sallies  of  wit,  which  he  had  always 
at  command,  to  turn  away  their  attention,  and 
throw  off  the  transient  gloom.  ]Not  many  mo- 
ments transpired,  before  he  again  seemed  lost 
in  thought,  and  dejected,  by  some  mournful 
contemplation.  This  exposed  him  so  entirely 
to  the  ridicule  of  his  companions,  that  he  could 
not  defend  himself.  As  they  poured  in  upon 
him  their  taunts  and  jeers,  he  at  last  remark- 
ed, "  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  cannot  help 
thinking,  every  now  and  then,  of  the  prayers 
my  mother  used  to  offer  for  me  at  my  bed-side, 
when  I  was  a  child.  Old  as  I  am,  I  cannot 
forget  the  impressions  of  those  early  years." 
Here  was  a  man  of  highly  cultivated  mind, 
and  of  talents  of  so  high  an  order  as  to  give 
him  influence  and  eminence,  notwithstanding 
his  dissolute  life;  and  yet  neither  lapse  of  years, 
nor  acquisitions  of  knowledge,  nor  crowdino- 
cares,  nor  scenes  of  dissipation  could  obliterate 
the  effect  which  a  mothers  devotions  had  left  upon 
his  mind.  The  still  small  voice  of  a  mother's 
prayers  rose  above  the  noise  of  guilty  revelry. 
The  pious  mother,  though  dead,  still  continued 
to  speak,  in  impressive  rebuke  to  her  dissolute 
son.  IMany  facts  might  be  introduced,  illus- 
trating the  importance  of  this  duty.  The  fol- 
lowing is  so  much  to  the  point,  and  aflTords  such 
cheering  encouragement,  that  1  cannot  refrain 
from  relating  it. 

A  few  years  since,   a  gentleman    from  En<T- 
land  brought  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  gen- 
tleman in  this  country.     The  stranger  was  of 
accomplished  mind  and  manners,  but  in  senti- 
5 


60         INFLUENCE    OF    EARLY    IMPRESSIONS. 

merit  an  infidel.  The  gentleman  to  whom  he 
brought  letters  of  introduction,  and  his  lady, 
were  active  Christian  philanthropists.  They 
invited  the  stranger  to  make  their  house  his 
home,  and  treated  him  with  every  possible  at- 
tention. Upon  the  evening  of  his  arrival,  just 
before  the  usual  hour  for  retiring,  the  gentle- 
man, knowing  the  peculiarity  of  his  guest's 
sentiments,  observed  to  him,  that  the  hour  had 
arrived  in  which  they  usually  attended  family 
prayers;  that  he  should  be  happy  to  have  him 
remain  and  unite  with  them;  or,  if  he  prefer- 
red, he  could  retire.  The  gentleman  intimat- 
ed that  it  would  give  him  pleasure  to  remain. 
A  chapter  of  the  Bible  was  read,  and  the  fami- 
ly all  knelt  in  prayer,  the  stranger  with  the  rest. 
In  a  few  days,  the  stranger  left  this  hospitable 
dwelling,  and  embarked  on  board  a  ship  for  a 
foreign  land.  In  the  course  of  three  or  four 
years,  however,  the  providence  of  God  again 
led  that  stranger  to  the  same  dwelling.  But, 
O,  how  changed  !  He  came  the  happy  Chris- 
tian, the  humble  man  of  piety  and  prayer.  In 
the  course  of  the  evening's  conversation,  he 
remarked  that  when  he,  on  the  first  evening  of 
his  previous  visit,  knelt  with  them  in  family 
prayer,  it  was  the  first  time,  for  many  years, 
that  he  had  bowed  to  his  Maker.  This  act 
brought  to  his  mind  such  a  crowd  of  recollec- 
tions, it  so  vividly  reminded  him  of  a  parent's 
prayers,  which  he  had  heard  at  home,  that  it 
completely  absorbed  his  attention.  His  emo- 
tion was  so  great,  that  he  did  not  hear  one  syl- 
lable of  the  prayer  which  was  uttered,  from  its 
commencement  to  its  close.    And  God  made 


HAPPY  EFFECT  OF  MILDNESS.       51 

this  the  instrument  of  leading  him  from  the 
dreamy  wihi  of  infidelity  to  the  peace  and  joy 
of  piety.  His  parents  had  long  before  gone 
to  tlieir  rest;  but  the  prayers  they  had  offered 
for  and  v»ith  their  son,  had  left  an  influence 
which  could  not  die.  They  might  have  prayed 
ever  so  fervently  for  him,  but  if  they  had  not 
prayed  ivilh  him,  if  they  had  not  knelt  by  his 
side,  and  caused  his  listening  ear  to  hear  their 
earnest  supplications,  their  child  might  have 
continued  through  life  unreconciled  to  his  Ma- 
ker. 


HAPPY  EFFECT  OF  MILDNESS. 

During  a  revival,  in  a  certain  town,  there 

lived  a  Mr.  H ,  who  was  a  moral  man,  and 

who  evidently  depended  upon  his  morality  for 
justification  before  God.  Not  finding  employ- 
ment in  his  own  town,  he  labored,  at  times,  in 
a  town  adjoining,  whence  he  returned,  every 
Saturday  evening,  to  his  family. 

One  week,  during  his  absence,  the  attention 
of  his  wife  was  excited  to  the  subject  of  reli- 
gion. Her  convictions,  in  a  short  time,  became 
deep  and  pungent.  A  pious  neighbor  living 
near,  she  sought  instruction  and  counsel  of  him, 
and  requested  the  privilege  of  attending  pray- 
er with  his  family.  The  means  with  which 
she  was  thus  favored,  were  blessed  by  the  Spir- 
it of  God  ;  and  on  Saturday,  previously  to  the 
return  of  her  husband,  she  hopefully  obtained 
mercy  of  the  Lord. 


52  HArPY    EFFi:CT    OF    MILDNESS. 

In  the  evening  she  attended  prayer-meeting. 
During  her  absence  her  husband  came  home, 
and  being  informed  whither  his  wife  had  gone, 
he  expressed  great  displeasure,  and,  in  no  mild 
terms,  said,  "that  he  would  have  his  family 
know  that  they  were  subject  to  his  control." 

On  the  return  of  his  wife,  his  displeasure 
again  manifested  itself  in  upbraidings  for  her 
conduct,  and,  with  an  intention,  perhaps,  of 
wounding  her  feelings,  he  said,  that  he  had  a 
poor  opinion  of  the  work.  This  deeply  affect- 
ed his  wife,  who,  with  great  mildness  and  affec- 
tion, entreated  him  to  attend  to  religion,  as  a 
divine  reality,  and  the  "  one  thing  needful." 
In  this  state  of  excitement  on  the  one  hand, 
and  of  deep  solicitude  on  the  other,  they  retir- 
ed to  rest.  Mrs.  H soon  sunk  into  a  re- 
freshing sleep;  but  not  so  her  husband.  Her 
mild  conduct,  added  to  her  kind  entreaties,  had 
penetrated  his  soul.  A  rapid  review  of  his  life 
convinced  him  that  all  was  not  right.  After 
some  time,  his  wife  awaking,  and  finding  him 
awake,  asked  him  if  he  were  unwell.  He  as- 
sured her  that  he  was  not.  Again  she  fell 
asleep,  and  again  awoke,  and  finding  him  as 
before,  said,  "  You  are  not  well,  my  dear 
husband,  I  am  sure;"  and  offered  to  rise 
and  administer  something  to  him.  But  he  de- 
clined, saying,  "  I  am  well,  but  feel  no  inclina- 
tion to  sleep."  After  a  time,  he  arose,  dressed 
himself,  and  walked  the  room.  She  then  said, 
*'  Husband,  you  are  either  unwell,  or  your  mind 
is  troubled."   His  reply  was,  "  I  am  a  sinner!" 

This  was  an  acknowledgment  full  of  joy 
to  Mrs,  H ,  and  in   her  heart  she    blessed 


ILAPPy    EFFECT    OF    MILDNESS.  53 

God  for  the  dawnings  of  a  better  day,  A  sense 
of  guilt  rapidly  increased  upon  her  husband, 
and  he  began  in  good  earnest  to  tremble.  Thus 
the  remainder  of  the  night  was  passed. 

The  next  morning  he  was  persuaded  to  at- 
tend church  ;  but  afterwards  observed,  that  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  should  sink,  the  preach- 
ing was  so  pointed  at  him.  In  the  evening  his 
wife  invited  him  to  accompany  her  to  a  confer- 
ence :  but  he  requested  to  be  left  to  his  own 
contemplations.  On  her  retirement,  he  fell 
upon  his  knees,  and  besought  a  God  of  mercy 
to  have  compassion  upon  his  soul.  In  this  man- 
ner, he  spent  the  whole  time  his  wife  was  ab- 
sent. About  the  time  of  her  return,  light  and 
joy  seemed  to  enter  his  soul.  From  that  lime 
he  appeared  the  humble,  affectionate,  and  con- 
sistent disciple  of  Christ. 

What  a  rich  reward  did  this  pious  woman 
reap  for  letting  "  patience  have  its  powerful 
work,"  and  persevering  in  the  mild  and  affec- 
tionate spirit  of  the  Gospel.  An  opposite  con- 
duct would  doubtless  have  driven  her  husband 
irrevocably  to  a  state  of  obduracy;  but  "by 
cords  of  love,"  she  won  him  to  repentance,  and 
prepared  the  way  for  their  mutual  eternal  joy. 


5* 


(  54) 


EARLY  Discipline. 

A  YOUNG  mother  once  pursued  the  following 
course,  with  a  child  of  less  than  three  years  old, 
who  had  not  been  good  during  her  absence  of  a 
few  hours. 

"  Mamma,  where  have  you  been?  "  said  she, 
when  her  mother  entered. 

"I  have  been  to  walk,  and  have  had  a  very 
pleasant  time.     Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  saw? " 

"O  yes;   tell  me." 

"  Well,  first  tell  me  if  you  have  been  a  good 
girl?" 

"  Sometimes  I  have;  but  I  cried,  and  I  tore 
that  little  book  you  gave  me." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  tore  it.  When  I  gave  it  to 
you,  you  promised  me  you  would  be  careful,  and 
not  tear  it." 

*'  If  you  will  give  it  to  me  now,  I  shan't  tear 
it." 

"I  cannot,  for  I  can't  trust  you.  I  can't  be- 
lieve you." 

"  Believe  me? " 

"  Yes,  I  am  afraid  you  will  not  keep  your 
promise." 

"  But  I  shall  keep  my  promise ;  (looking  up 
sorrowfully.)  "Will  you  give  me  the  book 
again  ?  " 

*'  If  I  was  to  give  you  the  book,  and  you  were 
to  say,  '  Mamma,  I  won't  tear  it,'  and  then  I  was 
to  go  out,  and  you  were  to  tear  it  while  1  was 
gone,  that  would  be  breaking  your  promise.  I 
should  be  very  sorry  to  have  you  do  that ;  for  it 


The  piiiLosopiiy  of  woman's  religion.  55 

Would  displease  God,  and  make  us  unhappy. 
You  cannot  have  the  book  now  ;  so  do  not  ask 
me  again  for  it." 

The  child  had  been,  a  few  days  before,  told 
distinctly  the  nature  and  guilt  of  breaking  her 
word  ;  and  this  was  the  first  time  it  had  been  re- 
ferred to. 

The  conversation  ended  here.  At  night,  when 
she  knelt  down  to  say  her  prayer,  she,  as  usual, 
inquired,  "  What  have  I  done  that  is  naughty  to- 
day? " 

"  You  must  think,"  replied  her  mother. 

The  child  then  repeated  her  usual  prayer,  clos- 
ing with,  *'  I  pray  God  would  forgive  me  always, 
— and  when  I  tore  the  book, — and  that  I  may 
not  do  so  any  moie;" — and  looking  up,  she  ad- 
ded, "  I  am  very  sorry  ;   I  won't  do  so  again." 

More  than  a  year  after  this,  the  child  saw  the 
torn  book,  and  recollected  her  fault. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  WOMAN'S  RELIGION. 

The  front  door  was  open,  and  I  entered. — The 
parlour  was  vacant;  as  I  was. crossing  it,  I  saw 
the  door  of  a  side  room  opened ;  I  turned  to- 
wards it — and  the  cause  of  the  unwonted  silence 
of  the  habitation  was  before  me.  On  a  table, 
against  the  wall  of  the  room,  rested  a  coffin. — ■ 
With  a  single  step,  I  was  at  its  side;  I  looked 
in;  it  contained  the  inanimate  form  of  my  little 
favorite.     For  a  moment,  I  turned  away  in  the 


56    THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF    WOMAN's    RELIGION. 

agony  of  disappointment ;  I  looked  again — it  was 
too  true;  and  my  hopes,  childish  almost  as  those  I 
had  excited  in  him,  lay  blighted.  As  I  gazed  upon 
the  cold  remains  before  me,  my  feelings  subsid- 
ed, and  I  recovered  that  tone,  which  the  well- 
regulated  mind  never  loses.  It  was  but  to  divest 
myself  of  those  acquired  feelings  concerning 
death,  and  the  child  that  lay  before  me,  was  as 
lovely  and  as  deserving  admiration,  as  when 
alive.  The  beautiful  glossiness  of  his  prominent 
forehead,  was  set  off  by  the  fine  silky  hair  that 
stretched  in  a  semicircle  towards  the  temples  ,• 
there  was  a  transparency  in  the  skin,  through 
which  the  blue  veins  showed  with  wonderful  dis- 
tinctness ;  and  the  budding  whiteness  of  the  teeth 
was  discernible  between  the  slightly  opened  lips  : 
his  little  hands  were  crossed  below  its  breast — 
their  beauty  had  not  departed :  but  the  eyes,  as 
I  gazed  upwards,  gleamed  glassy  between  the 
lids,  through  their  long  dark  lashes ;  and  as  the 
light  flickered  through  the  veins,  near  the  win- 
dow, I  sometimes  thought  that  life  was  returning 
to  animate  the  lovely  features  on  which  I  gazed. 
I  stooped  to  press  a  kiss  upon  its  face- — it  was 
cold,  and  the  tears  that  I  had  dropped  upon  it, 
trickled  off  as  if  they  had  fallen  upon  polished 
marble.  As  I  raised  my  head  from  the  coffin, 
my  eyes  met  those  of  the  mother. 

We  gaze  upon  the  dead  with  regret  for  their 
loss:  we  look  upon  the  inanimate  corpse  of  an 
infant,  and  mourn,  that  it  is  so  soon  snatched 
away  ;  we  dwell  with  fondness  upon  its  features, 
treasure  the  memory  of  its  beauties,  and  sigh 
that  we  cannot  longer  enjoy  them.  But  when  we 
see  those  that  the  bereavement  has  left  childless, 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    WOMAxX's    RELIGION.    57 

Standing  by  us  in  the  dignity  of  grief,  the  silent 
cause  of  sorrow  yet  stretched  before  them,  we 
shrink  almost  with  awe  from  their  presence. 
Such,  for  a  moment,  were  my  feelings.  I  wish- 
ed myself  absent  from  the  scene  that  was  about 
to  ensue  ;  but  the  extended  hand  of  the  afflicted 
parent  satisfied  me  that  retreat  would  have  been 
cruelty  or  cowardice,  I  pressed  the  hand  of  the 
mother  in  the  ardor  of  sympathy,  and  our  tears 
fell  fast  upon  the  snowy  shroud  of  the  outstretch- 
ed infant.  She  leaned  forward  and  buried  her 
face  with  his  in  the  narrow  coffin.  Fearing  the 
effects  of  this  paroxysm  of  grief  upon  the  mother, 
I  would  have  withdrawn  her.  "  Let  me  alone," 
said  she;  **I  know  by  whom  I  have  been  afflict- 
ed, and  in  my  sorrow  I  will  not  sin ;  neither  will 
I  charge  God  foolishly.  But  in  my  darling's 
sickness,  he  lay  day  and  night  upon  my  knees, 
until  he  died  ;  and  the  kind  officiousness  of  neigh- 
bors has  kept  me  from  a  solitary  indulgence  of 
grief  until  now.  Let  me,  then,  ere  they  shut 
him  out  of  my  sight  forever — let  me  once  more 
feel  his  face,  imprinting  its  features  on  my  neck, 
though  it  be  cold  as  death.  I  came  to  yield  up, 
in  silence  and  solitude,  my  child  to  Him  who 
gave  it — but  not  without  the  feelings  and  grief  of 
a  mother.  I  have  bowed  to  the  chastisement — 
I  have  even  kissed  the  rod  that,  smote  me ;  but  I 
have  not  mistaken  stoicism  for  resignation,  nor 
offered  the  Lord  an  unfeeling  for  a  submissive 
mind.  Four  times  has  the  hand  of  Heaven  visit- 
ed me  in  affliction,  and  I  have  not  murmured; 
and  now,  when  the  last  lamb  of  the  flock  is 
taken,  I  have,  in  the  hour  of  prayer  and  solitude, 
exclaimed — *  The  Lord    giveth,   and    the   Lord 


58   THE    PHILOSOPHY,  OF    WOMAN's    RELIGION. 

taketh  away — '  and  when  the  passion  of  grief 
shall  have  subsided  ;  when  the  cords  of  affection, 
now  torn  asunder,  shall  have  ceased  to  bleed,  and 
mourning  shall  have  become  woven  into  the  tis- 
sue of  life,  instead  of  being,  as  now,  its  whole 
web,  then,  perhaps,  I  may  add — *  Blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord;'  But,  oh!  so  lovely — so 
bright  in  promise  of  all  that  a  parent's  heart  can 
ask,  and  to  lie  now  so  cold." 

Again  the  mother  threw  herself  upon  the  cof- 
fin, and  nestled  her  face  with  that  of  her  infant. 

I  saw  it  was  no  time  to  offer  consolation.  She 
had  restrained  her  grief  during  the  presence  of 
her  neighbors ;  and  now  that  she  thought  her- 
self alone,  she  had  come  forth  from  her  chamber 
to  indulge  a  mother's  grief. 

In  a  short  time,  the  people  of  the  vicinity  were 
seen  gathering  towards  the  house,  with  a  view  of 
attending  the  funeral.  The  mother  impressed  a 
new  kiss  upon  the  lips  of  her  dead  child ;  she 
uttered  one  more  burst  of  grief,  and  shrunk  to 
her  chamber. 

In  a  little  while,  they  screwed  down  the  coffin 
lid,  and  a  slight  bustle  denoted  preparations  for 
a  procession  to  the  grave. — I  follov/ed  among  the 
very  few,  whom  the  occasion  had  called  togeth- 
er;  and  as  we  entered  the  city  of  the  dead,  I 
saw,  by  the  little  heap  of  fresh  turned  earth, 
where  the  tenement  of  my  little  favorite  was  pre- 
pared. 

The  line  of  followers  assembled  round  the  lit- 
tle grave,  and  the  coffin  lay  at  its  mouth.  At 
length,  the  hoarse  rumbling  of  the  cords,  and  the 
suppressed  sounds  of  clods  falling  far  down  upon 
the  coffin,  told  that  dust  had  been  committed  to 


THE  widow's  son.  59 

dust.  I  looked  for  the  officiating  clergyman,  and 
others  appeared  to  await  his  service — there  was 
none.  It  was  now  that  I  feared  for  the  firmness 
of  the  mother;  she  had  been  almost  distracted 
by  grief,  when  her  child  lay  before  her,  in  her 
own  house — what  could  sustain  her  when  she 
looked  down  into  the  deep  pit,  and  see  it  there 
girt  in  with  the  dampness  of  the  grave,  lying  cold 
and  stretched  out,  forever  to  be  separated  from 
her  gaze  ;  and  to  become  the  companion  and  the 
prey  of  worms  ? 

The  father  stepped  forward,  and  looked  down 
upon  his  child  ;  he  withdrew  with  clamorous  grief . 
The  mother  advanced,  and  standing  upon  a  little 
eminence  of  fresh  earth,  she  gazed  silently  down. 
I  could  not  see  her  face  ;  but  when  she  raised 
her  head  to  retire,  an  expression  of  agony  was 
passing  from  her  features  ;  her  lips  remained  firm- 
ly closed,  and  her  eyes  were  inflamed.  As  she 
stepped  from  the  grave,  she  uttered,  in  scarcely 
an  audible  voice,  "J  shall  go  unto  hi?n,  but  he 
shall  return  no  more  to  me.'* 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 

In  a  village  which  stands  on  the  sea  shore, 
there  lived  a  widow,  who  had  formerly  seen  bet- 
ter days.  Her  husband  was  a  respectable  sea- 
captain,  and  supported  his  family  in  ease  and  af- 
fluence :  but  amidst  his  own  and  the  hopes  of  his 
family,  he  was  lost  at  sea,  leaving  his  widow  with 


60  THE    widow's    son. 

two  little  sons,  one  of  six  years  old,  and  the 
other  an  infant.  She  retired  from  the  circle  in 
which  she  had  so  long  moved  with  esteem,  and 
purchased  a  neat  little  cottage,  by  the  water's 
side.  Here  she  brought  up  her  little  boys,  and 
early  endeavored  to  lead  them  "  in  the  way  they 
should  go."  She  felt  herself  to  be  a  pilgrim  be- 
low, and  taught  her  sons  that  this  world  was 
never  designed  for  our  home. 

In  this  manner,  this  little  family  retired;  be- 
loved and  respected.  The  mother  would  often 
lead  her  children  on  the  hard,  sandy  beach,  just 
as  the  setting  sun  was  tipping  the  smooth  blue 
waters  with  his  last  yellow  tints.  She  would  then 
tell  them  of  their  father,  who  was  gone,  and  with 
her  finger  w^ould  write  his  name  upon  the  sand, 
and  as  the  next  wave  obliterated  every  trace  of 
the  writing,  would  tell  them  that  the  hopes  and 
joys  of  this  world  are  as  transient.  When  the 
eldest  son  had  arrived  at  the  age  of  twelve,  he 
was  seized  with  an  incurable  desire  of  going  to 
sea.  He  had  heard  sailors  talk  of  their  voyages, 
of  visiting  other  climes  and  countries,  and  his 
imagination  drew  before  him  a  thousand  pleas- 
ures, could  he  also  visit  them.  The  remonstran- 
ces and  entreaties  of  a  tender  parent,  and  an  af- 
fectionate little  brother,  were,  however,  all  in 
vain.  At  length,  he  wrung  a  reluctant  consent 
from  hi?, mother,  and  receiving  from  her  a  Bible, 
and  a  mother's  blessing,  and  prayers,  he  embark- 
ed on  board  a  large  brig.  He  promised  his 
mother,  as  he  gave  a  last  parting  hand,  that  he 
would  daily  read  his  Bible,  and  as  often  commit 
himself  to  God  in  prayer.  A  few  tears  and  a 
few  sighs  escaped  him,  as  he  saw  the  last  blue 


THE    widow's    son.  61 

tints  of  his  native  land  fade  from  his  sight ;  for 
there  were  the  cottage  of  his  mother,  and  all  the 
joysof  his  childhood:  but  all  was  novelty  around 
him,  and  he  soon  forgot  these  pangs,  amidst  other 
cares  and  other  scenes.  For  sometime,  he  re- 
membered his  promise  to  his  mother,  and  daily 
read  his  Bible  ;  but  the  sneers  of  the  wicked 
crew  recalled  his  mind  from  reviewing  the  in- 
structions of  his  pious  mother,  and  he  placed  his 
Bible  at  the  bottom  of  his  chest,  to  slumber  with 
his  conscience.  During  a  severe  storm,  indeed, 
when  it  seemed  as  if  destruction  was  yawning  to 
receive  every  soul  on  board,  he  thought  of  his 
mother,  his  home,  his  promises,  and  in  the  an- 
guish of  his  heart,  resolved  to  amend,  should  his 
life  be  spared.  But  when  the  storm  had  subsid- 
ed, the  seas  were  smooth,  and  the  clear  sun 
brought  joy  and  gladness  over  the  great  waters, 
he  forgot  all  his  promises.  No  one  of  the  crew 
could  be  more  profane — no  one  more  ready  to 
scoff  at  that  religion,  which,  in  his  childhood  and 
innocence,  he  had  been  taught  to  love  and  revere. 
After  an  absence  of  several  years,  this  youth 
found  himself  once  more  drawing  near  his  native 
land.  He  had  traversed  the  globe  ;  but  during  all 
this  time  he  had  neither  written  to  his  mother, 
nor  heard  from  her.  Though  he  had  thrown  off 
restraint,  and  blunted  the  finer  feelings  of  his  na- 
ture ;  yet  his  bosom  thrilled  with  pleasure  at  the 
thought  of  once  more  meeting  his  parent  and 
his  brother.  It  was  in  the  fall  of  the  year  he  re- 
turned, and  on  a  lovely  eve  in  September,  he 
walked  towards  his  long-deserted  home.  Those 
only  are  acquainted  with  the  pleasures  of  the 
country,  who  have  spent  their  early  days  in  rural 
6 


62  THE  widow's  son. 

retirement.  As  the  young  sailor  drew  near  the 
cottage  of  his  mother — as  he  ascended  the  last 
sloping  hill,  which  hid  it  from  his  sight,  his  mem- 
ory recalled  all  the  scenes  of  his  "  happier 
days,"  while  fancy  whispered  deceitfully  that 
hours  equally  agreeable,  would  again  be  realized. 
The  hills  over  which  he  had  so  often  roamed — 
the  grove  through  which  he  had  so  often  wan- 
dered, while  it  echoed  with  the  music  of  the 
feathered  tribe ;  the  gentle  stream  on  whose 
banks  he  had  so  often  sported  ;  and  the  rising 
spire  of  the  temple  of  Jehovah — all  tended  to  ex- 
cite the  most  interesting  sensations.  He  drew 
near  the  cottage  door,  and  found  all  was  stillness. 
A  solemnity  seemed  to  breathe  around  him,  and 
as  he  rapped  at  the  door,  his  heart  misgave  him, 
though  he  knew  not  why.  He  knocked,  but  no 
one  bade  him  enter.  He  called,  but  no  answer 
was  returned,  save  the  echo  of  his  own  voice. 
It  seemed  like  knocking  at  the  door  of  a  tomb. 
The  nearest  neighbor,  hearing  the  noise,  came 
and  found  the  youth  sitting  and  sobbing  on  the 
steps  of  the  door.  "  Where,"  cried  he  with  ea- 
gerness, "  where  are  my  mother  and  my  brother? 
— O,    I   hope   they   are  not  " — "  If,"    said    the 

stranger,"  you  inquire  for  widow ,  I  can  only 

pity  you  ;  I  have  known  her  but  a  short  time,  but 
she  was  the  best  woman  I  ever  knew.  Her  little 
boy  died  of  a  fever  about  a  year  ago,  and  in  con- 
sequence of  fatigue,  in  taking  care  of  him,  and 
anxiety  for  a  long  absent  son  at  sea,  the  good 
widow  herself  was  buried  yesterday."  "  O  Heav- 
ens !  "  cried  the  youth,  "  have  I  staid  only  long 
enough  to  kill  my  mother!  Wretch  that  I  am — 
show  me  the  grave — I  have  a  dagger  in  my  bun- 


THE    widow's    son.  G3 

die — let  me  die  with  my  mother — my  poor,  brok- 
en-hearted parent!"  "Hold,  friend,"  said  the 
astonisiied  neighbor  ;  "  if  you  are  tiiis  woman's 
eldest  son,  I  have  a  letter  for  you,  which  she 
wrote  a  (e\v  days  before  she  died,  and  desired  you 
miijht  receive  it,  should  you  ever  return." 

They  both  turned  from  the  cottage,  and  went 
to  the  house  of  the  neighbor.  A  light  being  pro- 
duced, the  young  man  threw  down  his  bundle, 
and  hat,  and  read  the  following  short  letter,  while 
his  manly  cheeks  were  covered  with  tears  : — 

"  Ml/  dearest,  only  son, — When  this  reaches 
you,  I  shall  be  no  more.  Your  little  brother  has 
gone  before  me,  and  [  cannot  but  hope  and  be- 
lieve he  was  prepared.  I  had  fondly  hoped,  I 
should  have  once  more  seen  you  on  the  shores  of 
mortality,  but  the  hope  is  now  relinquished.  I 
have  followed  you  by  prayers,  through  all  your 
wanderings.  Often,  while  you  little  suspected  it, 
even  in  the  dark  cold  niorhts  of  winter,  have  I 
knelt,  for  my  lost  son.  There  is  but  one  thing 
that  gives  me  pain  at  dying,  and  that  is,  my  dear 
William,  that  I  must  leave  you  in  this  wicked 
world,  as  I  fear,  unreconciled  to  your  Maker  !  I 
am  too  low  to  say  more.  My  glass  is  run  ;  as  you 
visit  the  sods  which  cover  my  dust,  O  remem- 
ber that  you,  too,  must  soon  follow.  Farewell — 
the  last  breath  of  your  mother  will  be  spent  in 
praying  for  you — that  we  may  meet  above." 

The  young  man's  heart  was  melted,  in  reading 
these  few  words  from  the  parent  whom  he  so  ten- 
derly loved;  and  I  will  only  add,  that  this  letter 
was  the  means,  in  the  hands  of  God,  of  bringing 
this  youth  to  a  saving  knowledge  of  the  truth,  as  it 
is  in  Jesus  ;  that  he  is  now  a  very  respectable 


64  A  mother's  gift. 

and  pious  man  ;  and  that  we  may  learn  from 
Scripture,  and  from  daily  experience,  that  pray- 
ing breath  shall  never  be  spent  in  vain. 


A  MOTHER'S  GIFT. 

Remember,  love,  who  ^ave  thee  this, 
When  other  days  shall  come  ; 

When  she,  who  had  thy  earliest  kiss, 
Sleeps  in  her  narrow  home. 

Remember  'twas  a  mother  gave 

The  gifts  to  one  she'd  died  to  save. 

That  mother  sought  a  pledge  of  love. 

The  holiest  for  her  son  ; 
And  from  the  gifts  of  God  above, 

She  chose  a  goodly  one. 
She  chose,  for  her  beloved  boy. 
The  source  of  light,  and  life,  and  joy, — 

And  bade  him  keep  the  gift, — that,  when 
The  parting  hour  would  come, 

They  might  have  hope  to  meet  again, 
In  an  eternal  home. 

She  said  his  faith  in  that  would  be 

Sweet  incense  to  her  memory. 

And  should  the  scoffer  in  his  pride 
Laugh  that  fond  faith  to  scorn. 

And  bid  him  cast  the  pledge  aside, 
That  he  from  youth  had  borne  ; 

She  bade  him  pause,  and  ask  his  breast, 

If  he,  or  she,  had  loved  him  best. 

A'parent's  blessing  on  her  son 

Goes  with  this  holy  thing; 
The  love  that  would  retain  the  one, 

Must  to  the  other  cling. 
Remember  !  'tis  no  idle  toy — 
A  mother's  gift— Remember,  boy  ! 


(  65  ) 


WOMAN. 

In  no  situation,  and  under  no  circumstances 
does  the  female  character  appear  to  such  advan- 
tage, as  when  watching  beside  the  bed  of  sick- 
ness. The  chamber  of  disease  may,  indeed,  be 
said  to  be  woman's  home.  We  there  behold  her 
in  her  loveliest,  most  attractive  point  of  view, 
firm,  without  being  harsh  ;  tender,  yet  not  weak  ; 
active,  yet  quiet,  gentle,  patient,  uncomplain- 
ing, vigilant.  Every  sympathetic  feeling,  that  so 
peculiarly  graces  the  feminine  character,  is  there 
called  forth ;  while  the  native  strength  of  mind 
that  had  hitherto  slumbered  in  inactivity,  is  rous- 
ed to  its  fullest  energy.  With  noiseless  step,  she 
moves  about  the  chamber  of  the  invalid ;  her 
listening  ear  ready  to  catch  the  slightest  mur- 
mur ;  her  quick,  kind  glance,  to  interpret  the  un- 
uttered  wish,  and  supply  the  half-formed  want. 
She  smooths  with  careful  hand  the  uneasy  pil- 
low, which  supports  the  aching  head,  or  with 
cool  hand  soothes  the  fevered  brow,  or  proffers  to 
the  glared  and  parched  lips  the  grateful  draught; 
happy  if  she  meet  one  kind  glance  in  payment 
for  her  labor  of  love.  Here  is  the  low  whispered 
voice,  that  breathes  of  life  and  hope — of  health 
in  store  for  happy  days  to  come ;  or  tells  us  of 
better  and  of  heavenly  rest,  where  neither  sor- 
row nor  disease  can  come — where  the  dark  pow- 
er of  death  no  more  shall  have  dominion  over 
the  frail,  suffering,  perishable  clay.  Through  the 
dim,  silent  watches  of  the  night,  when  all  around 
are  hushed  in  sleep,  it  is  hers  to  keep  lone  vigils, 
6* 


66  AN    EXAMPLE    FOR    MOTHERS. 

and  to  hold  communion  with  her  God,  and  silent- 
ly lift  up  her  heart  in  fervent  prayer  for  the  pro- 
longment  of  a  life,  for  which  she  cheerfully 
would  sacrifice  her  own.  And  even  when  ex- 
hausted nature  sinks  in  brief  repose,  forgetful- 
ness  is  denied.  Even  in  sleep  she  seems  awake 
to  this  one  great  object  of  her  care.  She  starts 
and  rises  from  her  slumbers,  raising  her  droop- 
ing head,  watches  with  dreamy  eyes  the  face  she 
loves,  then  sinks  again  to  rest,  to  start  with 
every  chime  of  clock,  or  distant  sound,  that  for- 
merly had  passed  unheard,  or  only  served  as  lul- 
laby to  her  sweet  sleep. 

How  lovely  does  the  wife,  the  mother,  the  sis- 
ter, or  the  friend  become  to  the  eye  of  grateful 
affection,  administering  ease,  comfort — nay,  al- 
most life  itself,  to  the  husband,  the  son,  the 
brother,  or  the  friend. 


AN  EXAMPLE  FOR  MOTHERS. 

Within  a  short  time  I  spent  an  evening  with  a 
gentleman  of  ardent  piety,  with  whose  conversa- 
tion I  was  very  much  interested.  Though  not 
a  literary  man,  his  manners,  property,  vigorous 
and  active  mind,  give  him  access  to  the  first 
circles  in  society,  and  to  several  gentlemen  who 
hold  some  of  the  most  responsible  offices  in  our 
land.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  something  in 
his  history,  which  must  be  exceedingly  interest- 
ing to  pious  mothers,  and  may  be  instrumental  in 
the  salvation  of  precious  souls. 


AN    EXAMPLE    FOR    MOTHERS.  67 

He  was  born  in  Sweden.  His  father  was  an 
officer  in  the  Swedish  navy.  But  this  son,  when 
quite  a  young  man,  was  impatient  under  the  re- 
straints at  home,  and,  to  use  his  own  language, 
"  was  soon  disposed  to  be  off,  and  to  act  for  him- 
self" His  conduct,  however,  was  such  as  to 
give  him  promotion. — He  soon  obtained  the  com- 
mand of  a  ship.  In  this  situation,  he  felt  his  re- 
sponsibility. When  a  storm  threatened  their 
safety,  he  thought  of  the  property  and  lives  of  the 
men  connected  with  his  ship.  After  looking 
over  his  ship  to  see  that  everything  was  made  as 
secure  as  it  could  be,  he  would  retire  to  his 
cabin,  take  his  Bible  and  read,  and  pray  for  the 
safety  of  his  ship  and  men.  He  was  not,  how- 
ever, experimentally  acquainted  with  religion,  but 
admitted  the  being  of  a  God,  and  his  providen- 
tial government.  The  idea  of  God's  providence 
impressed  him  much  in  times  of  danger;  but 
when  the  storm  was  over,  and  the  appearance  of 
danger  passed  away,  he  used  often  to  think  there 
was  no  need  of  so  much  anxiety.  But  after  a 
time  his  mind  would  be  impressed  again,  and 
thoughts  of  God  and  eternity  followed  him,  until 
he  was  convinced  of  the  dreadful  sinfulness  of 
his  heart  and  life,  and  was  led  to  Christ,  as  the 
only  refuge  from  the  storm  of  Divine  displeasure. 
But  all  his  thoughts  of  religion,  and  those  vari- 
ous reflections  on  the  providence  of  God  and 
eternal  things,  which  led  to  his  conversion  and 
his  present  joyful  hope  of  future,  he  traces  to  his 
instructions  given  him  by  his  mother,  when  he 
was  very  young. 

"  When  a  little  boy,"  said  this  now  devoted 
Christian  and  gentleman,  "  I  used  to  lay  my  head 


68  THE    HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

on  my  mother's  lap,  to  be  combed  and  dressed, 
she  would  always  be  talking  to  me  about  religion, 
and  those  things,  which  respected  my  spiritual 
happiness.  When  I  would  look  up,  I  often  saw 
the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks,  and  I  was 
affected.  And  to  those  instructions  and  tears,  un- 
der God,  I  trace  all  the  serious  impressions,  which 
were  made  on  my  mind,  and  which  became 
stronger  and  stronger,  and  led  me  as  I  hope  to 
faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  only  Saviour 
of  the  world."  O  what  a  lesson  of  instruction  and 
encouragement  is  this  to  pious  mothers!  Where 
is  the  mother  who  will  not  be  induced  in  season, 
and  out  of  season,  and  at  all  times,  to  talk  to 
her  children  of  things,  which  respect  their  salva- 
tion! Mothers,  be  faithful  to  your  children. 
In  the  exercise  of  faith,  impress  on  their  minds 
the  importance  of  eternal  things ;  and  you  may 
hope,  though  your  children  should  travel  and  die 
in  distant  lands,  that  your  instructions  will  fol- 
low them,  and  be  a  savor  of  life  unto  life. 


THE  HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 

The  following  interesting  facts  are  related  of  a 

woman,  residing  in ,  who  was  awakened  to 

a  deep  sense  of  her  danger,  while  unreconciled 
to  God,  and  powerfully  convicted  of  sin,  by  the 
energies  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  She  had  always 
been  a  constant  attendant  on  public  worship!  re- 
spectful in  her  treatment  of  religion,  and  of  re- 


THE    HUSBAND    AND    WIFE.  69 

iigious  persons,  and  strictly  moral  in  her  daily 
conduct.  But  her  mind,  as  well  as  that  of  her 
husband,  was  wholly  engrossed  with  the  cares  of 
this  world  ;  and  they  prospered  in  their  endeav- 
ors to  gain  properly,  while  they  continued  un- 
mindful of  the  Author  of  all  her  mercies. 

From  the  time  that  her  attention  was  first  ex- 
cited, her  convictions  and  distress  of  mind  con- 
tinued to  increase,  till  they  issued  in  a  hope,  that 
she  had  passed  from  death  unto  life.  She  then 
at  a  suitable  time,  offered  herself  to  the  church, 
and  was  received  into  their  communion. 

Her  husband  was  a  man,  who  was  beloved  by 
his  companions,  and  being  of  a  lively,  social  turn 
of  mind,  his  company  was  much  sought  by  those, 
who  delighted  in  the  merry  jest,  or  the  amusing 
tale.  He  was  not  an  open  opposer  to  religion  ;  on 
the  contrary,  he  was  usually  found  in  his  place  in 
the  sanctuary,  and  treated  serious  things  with 
much  outward  attention.  Like  thousands  of 
others  in  a  gospel  land,  he  was  thoughtless  and 
careless  respecting  his  best  interests,  yet,  per- 
haps, thought  and  meant  to  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous.  During  the  time  his  wife  was  under 
conviction,  he  manifested  no  concern,  and  no  op- 
position. But  the  day,  on  which  she  united 
herself  with  the  church,  he  was  observed  to 
have  absented  himself  from  the  sanctuary.  A 
neighbor,  who  called  and  invited  him  to  attend, 
was  answered  in  such  a  manner,  as  showed  that 
the  evil  of  his  heart  had  began  to  work.  And  in 
truth  it  had.  As  a  family,  they  had  lived  har- 
moniously till  now.  But  a  division  had  taken 
place.  Their  feelings,  their  motives,  their  pur- 
suits, and  their  interests  were  different.  He  felt 
that  his  companion  had  left  him,  and  that  he  must 


70  ^  THE    HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

now  tread  the  paths  of  sin  alone.  His  selfish 
heart  was  grieved,  and  its  bitterness  was  manifest- 
ed by  unkindness  and  reproaches.  To  human  ap- 
pearance,their  domestic  happiness  had  fled  forever. 

Mrs. ,  took  herself  to  the  throne  of  grace, 

and  spread  her  trials  before  her  covenant  God. 
Her  prayer  was  heard,  and  the  heart  of  her  com- 
panion was  deeply  smitten,  yet  in  a  way,  and  by 
means  totally  unexpected. 

Coming  in  from  his  labor,  on  the  afternoon  of 
Monday,  he  began  to  reproach  his  wife,  for  the 
transactions  of  the  preceding  day,  and  expressed 
his  deep  regret,  that  she  should  forsake  his  so- 
ciety for  that  of  Christians;  reminded  her  of 
the  happy  days  they  had  seen ;  and  lamented 
their  present  difference  of  feeling  and  interest. 

Looking  him  full  in  the  face,  the  tear  of  afTec- 
tion  and  pious  concern  stealing  from  her  eyes, 

Mrs.  thus  addressed  him  :     "  Husband,  do 

you  wish  me  to  return  to  the  same  situation,  I 
was  before  I  found  peace  in  Christ?  Do  you  de- 
sire me  to  be  a  guilty  unpardoned  sinner,  expos- 
ed to  the  wrath  of  a  holy  God  ?  Are  you  willing 
that  I  should  be  destitute  of  holiness,  filled  with 
sin,  and  devoid  of  that  peace,  which  I  now  pos- 
sess? Do  you  imagine  I  shall  be  less  affection- 
ate, or  less  useful  to  you,  because  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian? Permit  me  to  enjoy  my  religion  in  peace, 
and  I  promise  never  to  disturb  you  by  remon- 
strances, in  any  course  you  may  see  proper  to 
pursue."  Conviction  seized  upon  his  heart.  Fill- 
ed with  distress,  he  hastily  left  the  room,  and 
sought  a  place  where  to  weep.  Concience  was 
now  awake,  reproaching  him  for  his  sin,  and 
threatening  the  wrath  of  God.     With  tears  of 


THE    EFFECTS    OF    PRAYER. 


71 


penitence,  he  sought  his  injured  companion,  con- 
fessed the  wrong  he  had  done  her,  and  intreated 
her  prayers.  With  her  this  was  a  time  of  in- 
tense anxiety,  and  agonizing  supplication.  She 
felt  that  in  all  probability  this  was  the  crisis  of 
his  soul,  and  the  decision  of  his  eternal  charac- 
ter.    Her  prayers  were  heard.     God  said  to  the 

troubled  mind  of  Mr. ,  "Peace,  be  still!" 

A  new  world  opened  to  his  view.  Christ  be- 
came the  support  and  joy  of  his  soul,  and  the 
gospel  plan  of  salvation  his  only  hope.  In  eight 
days  from  the  time  of  his  first  impression,  he 
found  that  the  peace  of  God  passeth  all  under- 
standing. He  united  with  the  visible  church, 
and  is  now  an  active,  zealous  and  devoted  Chris- 
tian. The  domestic  altar  is  reared  in  his  fami- 
ly, and  that  affection  that  formerly  subsisted  be- 
tween him  and  his  companion  has  received  a  tie, 
which  shall  never  be  dissolved  ;  while  they  both 
look,  with  humble  hope,  to  an  eternal  union  be- 
yond the  grave. 


EFFECTS  OF  PRAYER. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Saco,  about  a  mile  above 
a  flourishing  village,  is  a  cluster  of  small  houses, 
in  none  of  which,  a  few  years  since,  was  there 
a  single  praying  man.  The  occupants  were 
reported  to  obtain  their  living  almost  wholly 
by  stealing  logs  from  the  river,  manufacturing 
them  into  shingles,  and  selling  them  for  New 


72  EFFECTS    OF    PRAYER. 

England  rum!  A  man  might  be  seen,  some- 
times, with  a  hand-sled,  loaded  with  a  bunch  of 
shingles  and  a  jug, — at  other  times  with  the 
shingles  on  his  shoulders,  and  the  jug  in  his  hand, 
on  his  way  to  the  village,  to  replenish  his  jug. 
The  general  character  of  the  population  corres- 
ponded with  this  specific  trait. 

There  was,  however,  one  praying  woman,  the 
wife  of  a  drunken  husband,  who  continued  to 
pray,  till  death  set  her  free  from  earthly  trials, 
and  introduced  her  to  that  world,  where  the  wick- 
ed cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at 
rest.  This  woman  left  behind  her  a  daughter, 
who,  soon  after  her  mother  was  laid  in  the  grave, 
began  to  seek  after  the  Lord,  and  at  length,  ob- 
tained a  hope  of  pardon.  After  her  conversion, 
she  removed  to  Boston,  and  while  there,  in  com- 
parative comfort  and  on  good  wages,  she  heard 
that  her  father  was  in  the  poor-house.  She  was 
distressed,  not  so  much  at  his  poverty,  as  the 
thought  that  no  man  cared  for  his  soul.  Fdial  duty 
and  affection,  sanctified  and  directed  by  Christian 
principle,  prevailed.  She  came  home — took  him 
from  the  poor-house  to  the  little  old  house  by  the 
river,  and  there  watched,  nursed,  and  instructed 
him,  till  he  died.  As  a  means  of  support,  she 
then  opened  a  school  in  the  same  house;  on  the 
very  moderate  terms  of  six  cents  and  a  quarter  a 
week,  for  a  scholar ;  she  had  sixteen  scholars, 
which  afforded  her  an  income  of  one  dollar. 
These  same  children  with  others  she  formed  into 
a  Sabbath  school  class,  and  instructed  them  from 
the  scriptures  on  Lord's  days.  After  her  father 
died,  and  she  had  left  the  neighborhood,  the 
house  was  taken  possession  of  by  another  man. 


EFFECTS    OF    PRAYER.  73 

The  neighbors  all  said  of  him,  He  loill  become 
pious,  fur  there  has  always  been  one  religious  per- 
son in  that  house.  The  children  flocked  to  him, 
and  besought  him  to  keep  Sabbath  school,  as 
Miranda  did.  He  was  perplexed — hesitated  for  a 
time  ;  but,  at  length,  complied,  telling  them  to 
come  on  the  Sabbath.  They  came — the  lesson 
was  soon  said  ;  for  he  could  do  nothing  more 
than  to  hear  them  rehearse.  He  found  himself 
in  a  new  and  trying  situation.  Miranda,  he  said 
to  himself,  could  pray  with  you,  and  counsel,  and 
exhort  you,  but  I  cannot.  He  felt  that  he  was  a 
sinner,  and  soon  gave  external  indications  of  his 
inward  feelings.  His  wicked  neighbors  pitied 
liim.  He  sent  for  a  professor  of  religion,  who 
lived  about  a  mile  distant,  from  whose  counsel 
and  prayers  he  derived  benefit,  and  at  length  ob- 
tained a  hope.  His  wife  soon  followed  him — the 
attention  of  neighbors  was  arrested — convictions 
were  fastened  upon  their  minds,  a  revival  of  re- 
ligion prevailed,  and  as  many  as  twenty  obtained 
a  hope — one  of  whom  had  been  a  drunkard,  or 
rum-drinker  for  seventy  years.  Prayer  meetings 
are  now  held  on  that  spot,  where  once  was 
heard  the  voice  of  profaneness,  and  those  other 
abuses  of  speech  to  which  addictedness  to  the 
bottle  gives  birth.  What  may  not  the  supplica- 
tions of  one  praying  woman  accomplish! 


(  74) 


A  WIFE'S  PRAYERS  BLESSED  TO  THE  CON- 
VERSION OF  HER  HUSBAND. 

In  the  winter  of  1822,  says  a  correspondent  of 
the  Christian  Index,  I  had  occasion  to  pass  what 
is  called  the  fifty  mile  woods,  leading  from  Lake 
Champlain  to  the  county  of  St.  Lawrence,  N.  Y. 
The  houses  on  the  road  were  from  ten  to  twenty 
miles  apart,  and  the  weather  being  cold,  it  be- 
came necessary  for  me  to  stop  for  the  purpose  of 
warming.  The  house  which  I  entered  was  of 
logs,  and  small — but  tidy,  and  neat;  and  on 
entering  I  perceived  that  every  thing  bespoke 
the  abode  of  industry,  frugality  and  domestic 
quiet;  so  much  so,  that  I  said  to  a  young  wo- 
man, who,  with  her  husband,  was  sitting  by  the 
fire — "  You  appear  to  be  happy  in  your  little  log 
house."  The  woman  replied,  with  much  anima- 
tion of  countenance,  "  I  do  not  think  we  depend 
for  happiness  on  a  large  house."  "  What  then?  " 
"  Religion,"  said  she,  "  will  make  us  happy,  if 
anything."  "Religion!  have  you  any  religion  in 
this  dense  forest?  " — "  I  think  we  have  some. 
Are  you  a  minister?  "  *'  Yes,  I  profess  to  be." 
She  looked  earnestly  at  me  for  a  moment,  and 
with  a  tear  starting  down  her  cheek  said,  "I 
have  not  been  at  a  meeting,  or  heard  a  sermon 
preached  for  three  years;  but  I  have  no  reason 
to  complain.  O  sir,  you  do  not  know  how  good 
the  Lord  has  been  to  me — he  has  just  given  me 
my  husband  in  Christ."  She  would  have  pro- 
ceeded, but  she  was  so  overwhelmed  by  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  Divine  goodness,  that  for  a  time 


A  wife's  prayers  blessed,  etc.        75 

her  heart  was  too  full  to  give  utterance  to  her 
feelings.  Seeing  her  emotion,  I  turned  my  in- 
quiries to  her  husband,  whose  tears  betokened  the 
feelings  of  his  heart.  He  remarked,  "My  wife 
was  a  Christian,  when  we  moved  here,  three 
years  since  ;  she  complained  of  nothing  but  her 
loss  of  religious  privileges,  till  within  a  few 
months  past,  she  became  very  anxious  about  me, 
so  much  so,  that  she  wept  and  prayed  with  and 
for  me,  and  talked  to  me  about  being  a  sinner, 
and  of  the  danger  I  was  in.  I  wondered  at  her 
anxiety,  and  at  times  suspected  a  want  of  kind- 
ness in  her  for  thinking  me  such  a  sinner.     But, 

0  sir,  when  God  gave  me  a  sight  of  my  own 
heart,  I  did  not  wonder  that  she  wept;"  and 
ROW  he  wept  much.  He  proceeded — "  But  I 
trust  I  have  found  an  interest  in  the  pardoning 
mercy  of  God,  and  I  thank  God  that  he  has 
given  me  a  wife  that  could  pray  for  me — "  again 
he  wept.  His  wife  said,  "  O  sir,  you  cannot 
think  how  happy  I  am.  I  have  now  a  husband 
to  go  with  me  to  the  throne  of  grace.  We  are 
truly  happy,  though  we  can  go  to  no  meeting." 

Though  this  interview  took  place  a  number  of 
years  ago — yet  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind.    The  hour 

1  spent  witli  that  dear  couple,  whom  I  have  not 
seen  since,  but  whom,  I  trust  I  shall  meet  in 
heaven,  was  one  of  the  happiest  of  my  life;  and 
as  often  as  it  recurs  to  my  mind,  it  brings  along 
with  it  the  full  conviction  that  believing  hus- 
bands and  believing  wives  have  the  greatest  en- 
couragement to  seek  the  conversion  of  each 
other;  and  that  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a 
source  of  infinite  and  exalted  happiness,  given  of 


76  THE    SHIPWREKCED    MARINER. 

the  Lord  to  man  ;  it  sets  privation  at  defiance, 
sweetens  even  affliction,  adds  to  every  blessing, 
and  gives  tlie  soul  an  antepast  of  joys  to  come. 


THE  SHIPWRECKED  MARINER. 

There  was  living,  in  the  west  of  England,  a 
widow  lady,  who  was  left  with  a  family  of  seven 
daughters  and  one  son.  The  daughters  paid 
that  respect  to  her,  which  was  due  to  the  parent 
that  gave  them  birth ;  but  the  son  proved  diso- 
bedient and  refractory.  After  using  every  means 
that  duty  and  affection  could  devise,  and  all  in 
vain — the  thoughtless  youth  left  the  house  of  a 
fond  parent,  in  hopes  of  finding  pleasure  on  board 
a  vessel.  The  poor  widow's  mind  was  perpetu- 
ally agitated  by  the  thoughts  of  her  lost  boy  : 
every  breeze  that  blew  increased  her  anxiety, 
and  seemed  to  bear  on  its  bosom  the  sad  tidings, 
that  her  boy  was  no  more!  Being  often  called 
to  the  metropolis,  she  would  inquire  of  every 
master  or  mate  she  met  with,  whether  he  could 
give  her  any  intelligence  of  her  son. 

On  one  occasion,  she  met  with  a  captain,  and 
inquiring  as  usual  if  he  knew  such  a  person,  de- 
scribing her  son,  he  very  imprudently  said,  "He 
knew  a  person  of  the  name,  and  description,  but 
that  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  ;  and  if  all 
like  him  were  there  it  would  be  a  good  thing." 
The  poor  mother's  heart  was  ready  to  break  with 
grief  from  the  violence  of  such  a  shock,  and  it 


THE    SHIPWRECKED    MARINER.  77 

was  some  time  before  she  could  recover.  Agony 
preyed  oil  her  mind,  and  drank  up  her  spirits  : 
at  longtli  she  resolved  to  return  to  the  country, 
and  spend  her  days  in  a  seaport  town,  where  she 
could  feed  her  melancholy  by  looking  on  that 
ocean,  that  had  devoured  her  child. 

Sometime  after  she  took  up  her  residence  in 
her  new  abode,  there  came  to  her  door  a  poor 
distressed  sailor,  who  asked  relief  and  urged  his 
plea  by  telling  her  he  belonged  to  a  vessel  that 
was  wrecked,  and  only  himself  and  one  more  es- 
caped on  some  broken  fragments  of  the  ship  to 
a  desolate  island.  His  tale  interested  her  mind, 
and  induced  her  to  make  further  inquiry,  when 
he  told  her  he  should  never  forget  the  time  he 
spent  on  that  island,  nor  the  words  of  his  com- 
panion. She  then  asked  the  name  of  his  fellow- 
sufferer,  when  a  name  like  that  of  her  son  was 
mentioned.  Begging  of  him  to  describe  his  per- 
son, it  appeared  the  very  same.  "  But  do  you  not 
mistake?"  said  the  mother.  "No,"  replied  the 
man ;  "  and  to  convince  you,  I  have  his  book  in 
my  bosom,  and  will  show  it  you."  Judge  of  her 
surprise,  when,  on  opening  the  cover  of  a  Bible, 
she  discovered  her  son's  name  written  by  herself! 
"  Will  you  part  with  that  book? "  said  she.  "  Not 
for  the  world  !  "  answered  the  sailor  ;  "  as  I  clos- 
ed his  dying  eyes  he  gave  it  me,  requesting  me 
to  read  its  contents,  telling  me  that  he  had  found 
it  his  support  in  death,  and  enjoined  me  with  his 
last  breath  never  to  part  with  it.  I  was  then  a 
stranger  to  its  worth  ;  but,  by  reading  its  solemn 
truths,  I  have  learned  to  know  the  Lord,  and 
worlds  would  not  tempt  me  to  part  with  it! " 


(  78  ) 


ANECDOTE  OF  A  SEAMAN. 

The  following  anecdote  was  related  at  a  late 
meeting  of  the  London  Seamen's  Friend  Society, 
by  Captain  Angus. 

Fifteen  years  ago,  I  commanded  a  vessel  in 
the  merchant  service  ;  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  lodge 
under  the  roof  of  a  pious  widow,  who  had  a  son, 
the  support  of  her  old  age.  This  lad,  who  was 
about  sixteen  years  of  age,  conducted  himself 
with  great  propriety  in  his  situation  ;  but  all  in  a 
moment,  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  the  report  came 
to  his  mother's  ears  that  he  had  committed  an  of- 
fence, which  though  morally  speaking,  was  not 
of  the  most  heinous  nature,  was  nevertheless  suf- 
ficient to  touch  his  life.  The  poor  mother,  by 
the  advice  of  some  friends  was  induced  to  send 
her  son  to  sea  on  board  a  man-of-war  ;  and  who 
would  have  thought  that,  in  sending  him  there, 
he  was  to  meet  the  God  of  salvation,  and  be 
brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  !  But  God 
has  his  way  in  the  deep.     He  had  not  been  long 

on  board  H.  M.  S.  the  S ,  before  he  became 

acquainted  with  a  coporal  of  marines,  the  only 
man  on  board  that  ship,  who  knew  the  truth,  and 
lived  in  the  love  of  it.  He  began  to  speak  to 
him,  as  every  good  seaman  we  hope  will  do, 
about  the  love  of  Christ,  as  exhibited  on  the  cross, 
for  poor  sinners.  This  was  the  very  conversa- 
tion suited  to  his  heart,  whose  crime  was  yet  on 
his  conscience  ;  and  the  pious  man  was  glad  to 
make  known  to  him  the  only  way  of  comfort  in 
the  word  of  life,  which  says,  "  Come  unto  me,  all 


ANECDOTE  OF  A  SEAMAN.  79 

ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest."  This  conversation  was  blessed  to 
him,  till  he  became  a  decided  Christian.  Thus 
these  two  small  sparks  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean 
came  in  contact,  and  here  they  met  under  the 
scoffs  and  sneers  of  a  licentious  and  wicked  crew. 
These  became  three,  and  then  four,  and  five,  and 
so  on,  till  in  the  course  of  time,  fifty  of  their  ship- 
mates, among  whom  were  some  of  the  officers, 
became  with  them  worshippers  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  You  will  readily  believe  how  glad  the 
heart  of  the  poor  widow  was,  when  she  had  the 
first  letter  from  her  son,  to  find  that  the  storm, 
which  had  seemed  to  threaten  nothing  but  de- 
struction to  her  peace,  should  break  in  blessings 
on  her  head.  This  vessel  was  four  years  on  the 
Mediterranean,  and  was  engaged  in  some  of  the 
most  bloody  battles,  in  particular,  one  with  the 
Turkish  squadron  :  and  in  that  and  in  other  bat- 
tles, these  humble  followers  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace,  despised  as  they  were,  gave  the  strongest 
proofs  of  their  value,  and  their  attachment  to  their 
king  and  country.  When  this  vessel  arrived  in 
port,  and  was  paid  off,  and  every  one  rolled  in 
money,  and  every  thing  tended  to  induce  them  to 
break  allegiance  with  the  Prince  of  Peace,  they 
gave  the  noblest  testimony  that  the  work  of  God 
on  their  hearts  was  divine. 


(   80  ) 


MATERNAL  INFLUENCE. 

The  mental  fountain  is  unsealed  to  the  eye  of 
a  mother,  ere  it  has  chosen  a  channel,  or  breath- 
ed.  She  may  tinge  with  sweetness  or  bitterness 
the  whole  stream  of  future  life.  Others  have  to 
contend  with  unhappy  combinations  of  ideas. 
She  rules  the  simple  and  plastic  elements.  Of 
her,  we  may  say,  she  hath  entered  into  the  mag- 
azine of  snow,  and  seen  the  treasures  of  the  hail. 
In  the  moral  field,  she  is  a  privileged  laborer. 
Ere  the  dews  of  morning  begin  to  exhale,  she  is 
there.  She  breaks  up  a  soil,  which  the  root  of 
error,  and  the  thorns  of  prejudice,  have  not  pre- 
occupied. She  plants  germs  whose  fruit  is  for 
eternity.  While  she  feels  that  she  is  required,  to 
educate  not  merely  a  virtuous  member  of  society, 
but  a  Christian,  an  angel,  a  servant  of  the  Most 
High,  how  does  so  holy  a  change  quicken  piety, 
by  teaching  the  heart  its  own  insufficiency  ! 

The  soul  of  her  infant  is  uncovered  before  her. 
She  knows  that  the  images,  which  she  enshrines 
in  that  unoccupied  sanctuary,  must  rise  before 
her  at  the  bar  of  doom.  Trembling  at  such  tre- 
mendous responsibility,  she  teaches  the  little  be- 
ing, whose  life  is  her  dearest  care,  of  the  God 
who  made  him  ;  and  who  can  measure  the  extent 
of  a  mother's  lessons  of  piety,  unless  his  hand 
might  remove  the  veil  which  divides  terrestrial 
things  1 

"  When  I  was  a  little  child,"  said  a  good  man, 
*'  my  mother  used  to  bid  me  kneel  beside  her,  and 
place  her   hand  on  my  head^  while  she  prayed. 


TEIE  PERSECUTING    HUSBAND,  &.C.  81 

Ere  I  was  old  enough  (o  know  her  worth,  she 
died,  and  I  was  left  much  to  my  own  guidance. 
Like  others,  I  was  inclined  to  evil  passions,  but 
often  felt  myself  checked,  and,  as  it  were,  drawn 
back  by  the  soft  hand  upon  my  head.  When  I 
was  a  young  man,  I  travelled  in  foreign  lands, 
and  was  exposed  to  many  temptations.  But 
when  I  would  have  yielded,  that  sa?ne  hand  was 
iipon  my  head,  and  I  was  saved.  I  seemed  to 
feel  its  pressure,  as  in  days  of  my  happy  infancy; 
and  sometimes  there  came  with  it  a  voice,  in  my 
heart,  a  voice  that  must  be  obeyed, — *  Oh,  do  not 
this  wickedness,  my  son,  nor  sin  against  thy  God.' " 


THE     PERSECUTING    HUSBAND,     AND     HIS 
PIOUS  WIFE. 

An  English  Missionary  in  the  employment  of 
the  Baptist  Home  Missionary  Society  of  London, 
was  the  means  of  convertino;  a  poor  woman,  the 
wife  of  a  day  laborer.  Previously  to  this  change, 
they  had  lived  quite  happily  together  ;  but  now 
the  husband  became  a  bitter  persecutor,  and  be- 
cause his  wife  would  not  relinquish  the  service 
of  God,  he  frequently  turned  her  out  of  doors  in 
the  night,  and  durinor  the  winter  season.  The 
wife  being  a  prudent  woman,  did  not  expose  this 
cruelty  to  her  neighbors;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
to  avoid  their  observation,  she  went  into  the  ad- 
jacent fields,  and  betook  herself  to  prayer.  Great- 
ly distressed,  but  not  in  despair,  her  only  encour« 


8^  THE  PERSECUTING  HUSBAND, 

agement  was,  that  with  God  all  things  are  possi- 
ble ;  she  therefore  resolved  to  set  apart  one  hour 
every  day  to  prayer  for  the  conversion  of  her  per- 
secuting husband.  This  she  was  enabled  to  do, 
without  missing  one  day,  for  a  whole  year.  See- 
ing no  change  in  her  husband,  she  formed  a  sec- 
ond resolution  to  persevere  for  six  months  longer, 
which  she  did  up  to  the  last  day,  when  she  re- 
tired, at  about  twelve  o'clock  as  usual,  and,  as 
she  thought,  for  the  last  time.  Fearing  that  her 
wishes,  in  this  instance,  might  be  contrary  to  the 
will  of  God,  she  was  about  resolving  no  longer  to 
urge  her  suit  in  that  importunate  manner,  in 
which  she  had  done,  and  was  almost  tempted  to 
intermit  wholly  any  special  application  to  God,  in 
behalf  of  her  husband. 

That  same  day,  however,  her  husband  return- 
ed from  his  labor  in  a  state  of  deep  dejection,  and 
instead  of  sitting  down  as  usual  to  his  dinner,  he 
proceeded  directly  to  his  chamber.  His  wife 
followed  and  listened,  and  to  her  grateful  aston- 
ishment, he  who  used  to  mock,  had  returned  to 
pray.  He  came  down  stairs,  but  declined  eating, 
and  returned  again  until  evening.  When  he 
came  home,  his  wife  affectionately  asked  him, 
"  what  was  the  matter  ?  "  "  Matter  enough," 
said  he;  "I  am  a  lost  sinner;  about  twelve 
o'clock  this  morning,"  continued  he,  "  I  was  at 
my  work,  and  a  passage  of  scripture  was  impress- 
ed upon  my  mind,  which  I  cannot  get  rid  of,  and 
I  am  sure  I  am  lost.''  His  wife  encouraged  him 
to  pray  ;  but  he  replied,  "It  is  of  no  more  use,  there 
is  no  forgiveness  for  me."  Smitten  with  remorse 
at  the  recollection  of  his  former  conduct,  he  said 
to   his  wife,  ''  Will  you  forgive  me  1 "     "  Will 


AND    HIS    PIOUS    WIFE.  83 

you  pray  for  me?"  "Oh  yes,  that  I  will." 
"Will  you  pray  forme  nowV  "That  I  will, 
with  all  my  heart."  They  instantly  fell  on  their 
knees,  and  wept,  and  made  supplication.  His 
tears  of  penitence  mingled  with  her  tears  of  grat- 
itude and  joy.  Soon  afterwards,  this  pious  cou- 
ple agreed  to  have  their  house  registered  as  a 
place  of  worship,  and  the  scene  of  solitary  inter- 
cession became  a  house  of  prayer.  In  vain  did 
the  parish  clergyman  visit  them,  to  reprove  and 
menace  them,  and  order  them,  to  hold  no  more 
meetings  for  prayer.  Their  house  was  under  the 
protection  of  the  law,  and  their  hearts  under  the 
influence  of  the  Gospel.  Like  the  two  blind  men 
that  followed  the  Saviour,  saying,  Have  mercy  on 
Hs,  when  the  multitude  said  they  should  hold 
their  peace,  they  cried  the  more,  a  great  deal. 
The  consequence  was,  that  their  little  habitation 
soon  became  too  strait  for  the  attendance  ; — 
and  having  by  great  economy,  saved  out  of  their 
scanty  earnings,  the  sum  of  five  pounds,  they  re- 
solved to  expend  this,  their  little  all,  in  the  en- 
largement of  their  little  dwelling  for  the  accom- 
modation of  those,  who  wished  to  hear  the  Gos- 
pel. Accordingly,  the  wall  of  their  house  was 
carried  back  into  the  garden,  and  rebuilt  with 
the  wood  and  stone,  which  their  neighbors  car- 
ried to  them  for  that  purpose  ;  and  in  a  little  time 
the  enlargement  was  completed  and  paid  for. 
There  was  not  a  horse  or  cart  used  upon  the  oc- 
casion ;  no  loss  of  time,  nor  discord  among  the 
laborers ;  the  wall  was  built,  and  the  roof 
thereof  joined  together,  for  "  the  people  had  a 
mind  to  work." 

Of  this  happy  couple  it  may  be  recorded,  that 


84  MY  mother's  grave. 

having  a  church  in  their  own  house,  consisting  of 
from  twenty  to  thirty  members,  of  which  he  who 
was  once  a  persecutor  is  now  a  deacon,  and  in 
the  midst  of  which  he  reads  the  hymns  every  Sab- 
bath day,  they  continue  with  one  accord,  eating 
their  meat  with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart, 
praising  God,  and  having  favor  with  the  people. 
So  strong  is  the  conviction  that  a  larger  place  of 
worship  is  needed,  that  a  benevolent  lady,  who 
belongs  to  the  established  church,  has  kindly  en- 
gaged to  erect  a  meeting-house  at  her  own  ex- 
pense, provided  a  suitable  piece  of  ground  can  be 
obtained  for  that  purpose. 


MY  MOTHER'S  GRAVE. 

I  HAD  a  mother  once,  like  you, 

Who  o'er  my  pillow  hung, 
Kissed  from  my  cheek  the  briny  dew. 

And  taught  my  faltering  tongue. 

But  then  there  came  a  fearful  day, 

I  sought  my  mother's  bed, 
'Till  harsh  hands  tore  me  thence  away. 

And  told  me  she  was  dead. 

It  was  thirteen  years  since  my  mother's  death, 
when,  after  a  long  absence  from  my  native  vil- 
lage, I  stood  beside  the  sacred  mound,  beneath 
which  I  had  seen  her  buried.  Since  that  mourn- 
ful period,  great  changes  had  come  over  me. — 
My  childish  years  had  passed  away ;  and  with 
them  had  passed  my  youthful  character.     The 


MY   mother's  grave.  85 

world  was  altered  too ;  and  as  I  stood  at  my 
mother's  grave,  1  could  hardly  realize  that  I  was 
the  same  thoughtless,  happy  creature,  whose 
cheek  she  so  often  kissed  in  her  excess  of  tender- 
ness. But  the  varied  events  of  thirteen  years  had 
not  effaced  the  remembrance  of  that  mother's 
smile.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  seen  her  yesterday,  . 
as  if  the  blessed  sound  of  her  voice  was  then  in 
my  ear.  The  gay  dreams  of  my  infancy  and 
childhood  were  brought  back  so  distinctly  to  my 
mind,  that  had  it  not  been  for  one  bitter  recollec- 
tion, the  tears  I  shed  would  have  been  gentle 
and  refreshing.  The  circumstance  may  seem  a 
trifling  one  ;  but  the  thought  of  it,  even  now  ag- 
onizes my  heart, — and  I  relate  it,  that  those  chil- 
dren, who  have  parents  to  love  them  may  learn 
to  value  them  as  they  ought. 

My  mother  had  been  ill  a  long  time  ;  and  I  had 
become  so  much  accustomed  to  her  pale  face, 
and  weak  voice,  that  I  was  not  frightened  at  them, 
as  children  usually  are.  At  first,  it  is  true,  I  had 
sobbed  violently,  for  they  told  me  she  would  die  ; 
but  when,  day  after  day,  I  returned  from  school, 
and  found  her  the  same,  I  began  to  believe  she 
would  always  be  spared  to  me. 

One  day,  when  I  had  lost  my  place  in  the 
class,  and  done  my  work  wrong-side  outward,  I 
came  home  discouraged  and  fretful.  I  went  into 
my  mother's  chamber.  She  was  paler  than  usu- 
al,— but  she  met  me  with  the  same  affectionate 
smile,  that  alwavs  welcomed  my  return.  Alas, 
when  I  look  back  through  the  lapse  of  thirteen 
years,  I  think  my  heart  must  have  been  stone, 
not  to  have  been  melted  by  it. 

She  requested  me  to  go  down  stairs,  and  bring 
8 


86  MY  mother's  grave. 

her  a  glass  of  water.  1  pettishly  asked  why  she 
did  not  call  the  domestic  to  do  it.  With  a  look 
of  mild  reproach,  which  1  shall  never  forget,  if  I 
live  to  be  a  hundred  years  old,  she  said,  "And 
will  not  my  daughter  bring  a  glass  of  water  for 
her  poor  sick  mother  ?  " 

I  went  and  brought  her  the  water,  but  I  did 
not  do  it  kindly.  Instead  of  smiling  and  kissing 
her,  as  I  was  wont  to  do,  I  set  the  glass  down 
very  quick,  and  left  the  room. 

After  playing  a  short  time,  I  went  to  bed  with- 
out bidding  my  moth(5r  "  good  night;  "  but  when 
alone  in  my  room,  in  darkness  and  silence,  I  re- 
membered how  pale  she  looked,  and  how  her 
voice  trembled  when  she  said,  "  Will  not  my 
daughter  bring  a  glass  of  water  for  her  poor  sick 
mother  ?  "  I  could  not  sleep;  and  I  stole  into 
her  chamber,  to  ask  forgiveness.  She  had  just 
sunk  into  an  uneasy  slumber,  and  they  told  me 
I  must  not  waken  her.  I  did  not  tell  any  one 
what  troubled  me;  but  stole  back  to  my  bed,  re- 
solved to  rise  early  in  the  morning,  and  tell  her 
how  sorry  I  was  for  my  conduct. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  when  I  awoke, 
and  hurrying  on  my  clothes,  I  hastened  to  my 
mother's  room. 

She  was  dead ! — She  never  spoke  to  me  more 
— never  smiled  upon  me  again — and  when  I 
touched  the  hand,  that  used  to  rest  upon  my 
head  in  blessing,  it  was  so  cold,  it  made  me  start. 
1  bowed  down  by  her  side,  and  sobbed  in  the  bit- 
terness of  my  heart.  I  thought  then  I  wished  I 
could  die,  and  be  buried  with  her  ;  and  old  as  I 
now  am,  I  would  give  worlds,  were  they  mine  to 
give,  could  my  mother  but  have  lived  to  tell  me, 


THE  brothers'  quarrel.  87 

she  forgave  my  childish  ingratitude.  But  I  can- 
not call  her  back;  and  when  I  stand  by  her 
grave,  and  whenever  I  think  of  her  manifold 
kindness,  the  memory  of  that  reproachful  look 
she  gave  me,  will  "  bite  like  a  serpent,  and  sting 
like  an  adder !  " 


THE  BROTHERS'  aUARREL. 

Of  the  divided  affections  too  often  observable 
among  brothers,  a  most  remarkable  instance  hap- 
pened a  few  years  ago  in  the  family  of  a  gentle- 
man in  the  north  of  Scotland.  George  and  Wil- 
liam Sterling  were  the  only  sons  of  the  gentleman 
alluded  to,  and  they  had  grown  to  manhood  in  the 
exercise  of  that  mutual  kindness,  which  it  is  so 
delightful  to  observe,  in  relations  in  that  degree 
of  consanguinity.  I  am  not  aware  that  there  was 
anything  remarkable  in  their  characters  ;  they 
were  simply  two  respectable  young  men  of  good 
education  ;  and  while  the  elder  wasieared  to  the 
enjoyment  of  a  competent  fortune,  the  younger 
soon  attained  such  a  degree  of  distinction  at  the 
bar,  as  rendered  his  condition  little  less  enviable. 

On  the  death  of  their  mother,  which  took  place 
when  they  were  between  twenty  and  thirly  years 
of  age,  some  dispute  arose  respecting  a  legacy, 
the  destination  of  which  had  not  been  expressed 
in  terms  sutHciently  clear,  and  which,  after  a 
brief  suit  at  law,  was  determined  in  favor  of  the 
elder  brother.     At  first,  it  was  resolved  by  the 


88      THE  brothers'  quarrel. 

two  brothers  that  this  plea  should  be  amicably 
conducted,  merely  for  the  purpose  of  deciding  an 
uncertain  matter;  but  some  circumstances  unex- 
pectedly occurred  which,  acting  upon  the  inflam- 
mable nature  of  the  elder,  and  not  being  met 
with  a  proper  spirit  by  the  younger  brother, 
speedily  produced  a  decided  alienation  between 
them.  Each  retired  sullenly  into  the  fortress  of 
his  own  pride  ;  nor  were  their  father's  entreaties 
and  good  ofSces,  or  their  common  recollections 
of  twenty  affectionate  and  happy  years,  of  the 
least  avail  in  bringing  them  once  more  together. 
They  did  not  again  meet  for  ten  years,  and  then 
at  their  father's  funeral.  The  old  gentleman  had 
died  in  the  presence  of  his  eldest  son  only,  reiter- 
ating with  his  latest  breath,  those  injunctions  so 
often  before  employed  in  vain,  that  his  two  sons 
might  be  restored  to  brotherly  friendship,  an  ob- 
ject, he  said,  which  engrossed  his  thoughts  so 
much  in  life,  that  he  felt  as  if  he  could  not  rest 
at  peace  in  his  grave,  unless  it  were  accomplish- 
ed. The  two  brothers  met,  but  without  taking 
the  least  notice  of  each  other,  when  respectively 
mounting  their  carriages,  in  order  to  follow  the 
corpse  of  their  father  to  the  family  burying- 
ground,  in  Aberdeen.  Their  hearts  were  still 
filled  with  fierce  and  indignant  feelings  towards 
each  other,  though  it  is  not  improbable  that  the 
elder  had  been  somewhat  touched,  almost  imper- 
ceptibly to  himself,  by  the  dying  entreaties  oi^his 
father.  The  procession,  consisting  of  a  hearse 
and  the  carriages  of  the  two  brothers,  set  out  on 
its  long  and  dreary  journey,  which  was  rendered 
additionally  melancholy  by  the  gloom  of  a  De- 
cember day. 


THE  brothers'  QUARREL.         89 

It  was  originally  designed  that  there  should  be 
no  stoppage,  except  to  exchange  horses,  till  they 
reached  their  destination  ;  but  this  arrangement 
was  destined  to  be  strangely  disconcerted.  A 
fall  of  snow,  which  had  begun  only  that  morning 
in  the  low  country,  was  found,  when  they  reach- 
ed the  hilly  region,  to  have  been  of  two  days' 
continuance;  and  it  was  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty, that  they  reached  a  lonely  inn,  about  half 
way  towards  the  capital,  beyond  which,  it  was 
declared  by  the  posiilions,  there  was  no  possibil- 
ity of  proceeding  that  day.  This  humble  place 
of  entertainment  was  accustomed  to  lodge  only 
such  guests  as  carriers,  and  as  it  was  partly  oc- 
cupied on  the  present  occasion  by  various  way- 
farers; the  host  with  all  his  anxiety  to  accommo- 
date such  distinguished  guests,  as  those  who  had 
just  arrived,  found  he  could  not  by  any  means 
offer  them  more  than  two  rooms.  It  was  his  ex- 
pectation, that,  while  one  of  these  was  devoted, 
as  decency  required  to  the  reception  of  the  corpse, 
the  other  would  serve  for  the  two  mourners  ;  and 
he  accordingly  proposed  to  make  up  an  additional 
bed  in  the  room,  which  he  had  marked,  as  that 
which  should  receive  his  living  guests.  What 
was  his  astonishment,  and  what  was  the  aston- 
ishment of  all  the  inmates  of  the  house,  when  he 
was  intbrmed  by  a  servant,  that  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen would  sleep  in  one  of  the  rooms,  while 
the  other  had  no  objection  to  that,  in  which  he 
had  placed  the  corpse  !  It  was  not  for  him,  how- 
ever, to  make  any  resistance  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment, and  he  accordingly  caused  the  rooms  to  be 
prepared,  as  befitted  the  tastes  of  his  guests. 

It  must  communicate  a  strange  feeling  to  know 


90         THE  brothers'  QUARREL. 

that  two  brothers,  men  of  cultivated  understand- 
ings, and  each  respected  in  his  sphere,  for  public 
and  private  worth — -actually  carried  this  dreadful- 
arrangement  into  effect,  in  order  to  avoid,  what 
they  must  have  contemplated   as   a  more  painful 
thing — the  spending  of  a  single  night  in  each 
other's  company.     It  was  the  younger,  who  pro- 
posed, as  a  solution  of  the  dilemma  in  which  he 
found   they  were  placed,  to  take  up  his  quarters 
in  the  same  chamber  with  the  corpse  ;  unpardona- 
ble as  the  elder  was  for  his  share  of  the  dissension, 
it  was  but  justice  to  him  to  s^ate,  that  he  could 
not,  after  the   dying  request  of  his  father,  have 
encountered  the  sensations  which   might  be  ex- 
pected to  arise  in  so  dreadful  a  situation.     Dur- 
ing the   evening,  as  the   storm  prevented  them 
from  going  out  of  doors,  each  kept  his  own  room, 
and  was  severally  served  with  the  refreshments, 
which  he  required.     Night  came,  and  each  went 
to  rest.     Morning  returned,  and  still  the  storm 
was  unabated.     It   was   therefore  necessary   to 
spend  another  day  in  the  same  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances.    Slowly    waned   the   hours   of  the 
twilight ;  and  still  the  snow  continued  to  fall  in 
its  broad  and  lazy   flakes,  seeming  to  the  two 
brothers,  as  each   surveyed   it  listlessly  from  his 
window,  the   very  personification   of  monotony. 
As  the  rooms  were  close  to  each  other,  and  only 
divided  by  a  thin  partition,  through  which  there 
was  a  door  of  communication,  each  of  the  unhap- 
py gentlemen  could  overhear  every  thing  that  his 
neighbor  did,  almost  to  his  very  breathing.     It, 
at  length,  became  the  amusement  of  each,  un- 
known to  his  fellow,  to  vv'atch  the  proceedings  of 
the  other,  to  note  every  foot-fall,  to  register  every 


THE  brothers'  QUARREL.        91 

sigh.  George,  in  particular,  became  interested, 
in  spite  of  himself,  in  the  situation  of  his  brother, 
whicli,  in  consideration  of  what  he  had  heard 
from  the  lips  of  iiis  dying  father,  bore  to  him  an 
aspect  more  repulsive  and  painful  than  perhaps  to 
the  actual  sufferer. 

At  length,  when  after  a  weary  day,  the  time  of 
rest  again  drew  nigh,  and  the  house  became  more 
than  usually  still,  he  heard  a  groan — a  groan 
partly  suppressed,  but  still  bearing  distinctly  the 
impress  of  unutterable  anguish,  proceed  from  his 
brother's  room.  He  listened  more  intently,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  he  could  make  out  that  the  liv- 
ing tenant  of  the  death  chamber  was  prostrated 
beside  the  coffin,  weeping, — bitterly  weeping — 
but  still  making  every  effort  to  bury  the  expression 
of  his  grief  in  his  own  bosom.  It  may  easily  be 
imagined  that  such  sounds,  coming  upon  a  heart, 
which  had  insensibly  been  undergoing  a  softening 
process  during  the  whole  day,  must  have  had  the 
best  effect.  Still  the  rancor  of  ten  years  was  not 
to  be  got  over  by  tears  shed  under  such  circum- 
stances. He  softly  stole,  however,  to  the  door, 
and  watched  with  the  most  intense  anxiety  every 
respiration  and  movement  of  his  afflicted  brother. 
After  waiting  a  few  minutes,  he  distinctly  heard 
William  breathe  forth  the  words,  *  Oh  mother!  ' 
and  that  in  a  tone,  which  referred  so  pointedly  to 
the  source  of  their  unhappy  quarrel,  that  he  could 
no  longer  entertain  a  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of 
his  brother's  reflections.  A  thousand  tender  as- 
sociations were  awakened  by  that  endeared 
word ;  he  reverted  to  the  early  days,  when  they 
had  no  contention,  but  for  her  affections;  no  ri- 
valry, but  for  the  kind  bounty,  which  she  was 


92  RECOLLECTIONS    OF  A    MINISTER. 

always  ready  to  bestow  upon  each  alike.  Hu- 
man nature  could  hold  no  longer,  and  he  gently 
tapped  at  the  door,  which  had  hitherto  kept  them 
apart,"  William,"  he  said,  "may  I  come  in?" 
The  voice  of  affection  could  not  be  mistaken  — 
Wdliam  opened  the  door  in  an  instant,  and,  as  if 
he  had  guessed  intuitively  the  disposition  of  his 
brother,  rushed  into  his  arms. 

The  next  day  saw  the  two  brothers  amicably 
proceeding  in  one  vehicle  to  the  family  burying 
place,  where,  in  the  grave  of  their  father,  they 
inhumed  every  bitter  feeling  they  had  entertain- 
ed against  each  other;  ?.nd  at  present  taught  by 
the  sufferings,  which  they  endured  in  their  peri- 
od of  alienation,  there  is  no  pair  of  friends,  who 
take  such  pains  to  cherish  each  other's  affec- 
tions, or  to  avoid  all  means  of  converting  them 
into  gall. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OP  A  MINISTER. 

THE    SAILOR    BOY. 

There  is  something  in  the  name  of  a  widow, 
that  connects  with  it  an  idea  of  desolation  and 
loneliness.  Especially,  when  we  see  the  bereav- 
ed one,  in  the  feebleness  of  her  nature,  no  longer 
supported  by  the  strong  arm  of  man,  strugglmg 
against  the  pressure  of  poverty,  and  the  various 
ills  of  a  new  and  untried  state  of  being.  Such 
were  my  thoughts,  one  morning,  as  I  was  making 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A    MINISTER.  93 

my  usual  visits  among  the  sick,  that  belonged  to 
my  flock,  in  a  small,  but  beautiful  villaofe,  in  one 
of  the  Eastern  States.  Tlie  rays  of  an  autumnal 
suti  were  shining  bright  and  clear,  reflecting  glo- 
riously the  varied  hues  that  were  painted  on  the 
gay  plumes  of  the  dying  summer,  as  I  turned  my 
horse's  head  down  an  unfrequented  lane,  that  led 
to  the  widow  Thompson's  habitation. 

As  I  approached  the  scene  of  suffering,  I  re- 
flected that  a  few  more  visits,  and  my  ministry 
would  end — and  thus  it  is  with  all  earth's  joys 
and  sorrows — "  they  are  but  for  a  moment  !  " 
Mrs.  T.  had  been  left  a  widow,  at  an  early  peri- 
od, with  two  small  children.  Edward,  her  oldest 
child,  was  a  boy  of  uncommon  promise  ; — she  had 
given  him  the  best  education,  which  her  circum- 
stances would  permit,  and  looked  forward  to  the 
time  when  he  would  be  able  to  comfort  and  cheer 
her  in  her  old  age.  But  she  was  disappointed. 
Before  Edward  had  attained  his  fifteenth  year, 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  sea.  Every  feel- 
ing of  the  mother's  bosom  revolted  from  the  step 
he  was  about  to  take,  and  she  earnestly  entreat- 
ed him  to  select  some  other  way  of  life;  but  he 
had  set  his  heart  on  it — his  young  imagination 
was  filled  with  the  idea  of  making  a  rapid  for- 
tune ;  aud  after  many  efforts  to  change  his  pur- 
pose, his  mother,  at  length,  consented. 

He  embarked  in  a  merchant^'s  vessel  for  India, 
hoping  to  return  in  a  year.  Four  years  had  now 
elapsed,  and  no  tidings  of  the  vessel,  or  crew  had 
ever  arrived.  For  some  time,  she  had  supposed 
him  lost,  and  many  were  the  bitter  tears  and 
sleepless  nights,  she  gave  to  the  memory  of  her 
boy.     But  the  period  was  fast  approaching,  when 


94  RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A    MINISTER. 

her  faith  was  to  be  again  severely  tried.  Eliza, 
her  sole  remaining  child,  the  only  consolation  and 
joy  of  the  widow's  heart,  was  about  to  be  taken 
from  her.  She  had  grown  up  like  a  lily,  fair  and 
beautiful — but  the  roseate  hue  had  faded  from 
her  cheek,  and  the  lustre  of  her  eye  was  dim. 
Death  had  laid  his  blighting  hand  upon  the  young 
flower.  The  nearer  she  approached  the  confines 
of  eternity,  the  more  clear  and  fervent  became 
her  faith  in  Christ.  She  felt  deeply  at  leaving 
her  lone  and  widowed  mother,  but  she  would  fre- 
quently say,  "  For  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to 
die  is  gain."  As  I  alighted  at  the  door  of  their 
humble  dwelling,  I  heard  the  sound  of  voices 
and  weeping  within.  I  thought  that  death  had 
anticipated  my  visit,  and  that  the  spirit  of  the 
suffering  one  had  winged  its  way  to  Abraham's 
bosom.  But  no — far  different  was  the  scene  I 
witnessed.  Eliza  was  still  an  inhabitant  of 
earth  ;  she  was  supported  in  the  bed  by  pillows  ; 
her  mother  sat  at  her  head,  and  a  young  man 
dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  sailor,  stood  close  beside 
her. 

As  I  entered  the  room,  he  turned  around,  and 

I  met  the  clear  blue  eye  of  Edward  T ;  the 

lost  one  had  indeed  returned.  The  ship  in  which 
he  had  sailed  had  been  wrecked,  and  he,  with 
two  others,  were  the  only  survivors.  For  twelve 
days,  they  were  exposed  to  the  fury  of  the  raging 
elements.  On  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth, 
when  they  were  on  the  point  of  yielding  up  to 
despair,  emaciated  and  worn  out  with  suffering, 
they  were  providentially  rescued  from  their  peril- 
ous situation,  by  the  crew  of  a  French  brig,  and 
carried  into  Bourdeaux,  in  France;  from  thence 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A    MINISTER  95 

Edward  sailed  to  South  America.  He  had  writ- 
ten several  letters  to  his  mother,  but  they  had 
never  reached  her.  "  I  have  been  a  great  suffer- 
er," said  he,  "  but  thank  God,  I  am  spared  to  re- 
turn to  the  home  of  my  childhood.  The  Lord 
has  been  very,  gracious  to  me  ;  1  have  seen  his 
wonders  in  the  great  deep;  I  have  felt  his  power 
amidst  the  war  of  elements,  and  heard  his  voice 
above  the  thunder  of  the  storm.  When  lashed 
to  the  mast  of  the  vessel,  and  tossed  about  upon 
the  mountain  billows,  surrounded  by  a  world  of 
waters,  the  Lord  appeared  to  me  from  above  the 
clouds,  placed  my  feet  upon  the  eternal  rock,  and 
put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth.  If  you  recollect, 
sir,  you  preached  a  sermon  to  the  children   in 

P ,  about    five  years  ago.     I  was    present ; 

my  mother  and  sister  were  with  me — we  sat 
among  the  children,  just  before  you.  Your  text 
was,  '  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and 
forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  are  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  Your  address  made  a  deep  and  lasting 
impression  on  my  mind  :  I  never  forgot  it.  Our 
captain  was  a  pious  man,  and,  during  our  voyage, 
I  had  frequent  opportunities  for  reading,  prayer, 
and  meditation  ;  but  it  was  not  until  we  were  ex- 
posed to  all  the  horrors  of  a  watery  grave,  that  I 
felt  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  was  then 
your  words  came  fresh  and  powerful  to  ray  mem- 
ory, and  though  you  sowed  the  seed  on  a  far-off 
shore,  the  Lord  caused  it  to  take  deep  root,  and 
spring  up  on  the  hulk  of  a  dismantled  vessel  on 
the  dreary  waters,  and  behold  the  fruit  of  your 
labor  and  toil  this  day.  I  have  passed  through 
many  scenes  of  suffering  since,  but  blessed  be 
God,  the  cross  of  Christ  has  been  the  sheet  an- 
chor of  my  soul,  and  the  pole-star  of  my  hopes.'* 


96       PREVALENCE  OF    A  MOTHEu's    PRAYERS. 

I  was  deeply  affected  at  the  young  sailor's  nar- 
rative. We  knelt  at  the  throne  of  grace  to  return 
thanks  to  the  God  of  all  our  mercies  ; — his  prayer 
was  deep  and  fervent.  Eliza  lingered  a  few 
days  after  her  brother's  return,  then  her  pure  and 
happy  spirit  winged  its  flight  to  the  realms  of  un- 
created beauty.  Edward  is  now  the  master  of 
a  fine  ship,  and  the  Bethel-flag  constantly  waves 
from  its  mast-head  when  in  port.  There  is  or- 
der among  his  sailors  ;  they  have  prayers  night 
and  morning  on  board,  and  ardent  spirits  are  en- 
tirely banished  from  his  vessel.  His  pious  moth- 
er continually  gives  thanks  to  God,  that  she  ever 
carried  her  dear  boy  to  hear  the  children's  ser- 
mon. 


PREVALENCE  OF  A  MOTHER'S  PRAYERS. 

While  in  the  service  of  the  Home  Missionary 

Society,  in  the  town  of ,  in  the  state  of  New 

York,  observes  a  clergyman,  I  became  acquaint- 
ed with  a  family,  which  consisted  of  the  father, 
and  mother,  and  five  sons.  The  first  four  of  the 
sons  were  between  fourteen  and  twenty-two  years 
of  age.  Of  this  family,  the  only  individual  who 
professed  religion  was  the  female  head,  who  had 
for  several  years  been  an  ornament  to  the  visible 
church.  Soon  after  making  a  public  profession 
of  her  faith,  she  fejt  it  to  be  her  duty  and  a  most 
precious  privilege,  to  dedicate  her  children  to 
God  in  baptism.     She  led  them  to  the  altar,  and 


PREVALENCE    OF    A    MOTHER'S    PRAYER.       97 

the  emotions  of  her  soul  were  unutterable.  Her 
melting  heart  went  up  to  God  in  supplication  for 
hiiJ  blessing  on  herself  and  her  offspring.  Fer- 
vent ejaculations,  like  the  following  ascended 
from  her  anxious  spirit.  '*  O  Lord,  give  me  grace 
to  perform  the  conditions  of  this  covenant  into 
which  I  am  now  entering.  Enable  me  to  train 
up  for  thee,  my  dear  children,  which  I  now  bring 
into  thy  temple  to  dedicate  to  thy  service.  Help 
me  to  instruct  them  ;  to  pray  for  them,  and  to  set 
a  pious  example  before  them.  Ever  impress  my 
mind  with  the  obligations  which  thy  covenant 
lays  upon  me.  O  may  I  always  feel  that  with- 
out thy  grace  to  renew  and  sanctify  my  offspring, 
all  my  labors  for  their  good  will  be  unavailing. 
Now,  Lord,  give  me  faith  to  take  hold  upon  th" 
covenant  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ,  my  Re- 
deemer." 

After  these  silent  breathings  of  her  soul  to 
God,  she  reached  out  the  hand  of  faith,  and  laid 
fast  hold  of  that  promise,  where  God  engages  to 
be  a  God  to  faithful  believers,  and  their  seed. 
When  tlie  seal  of  the  covenant  had  been  placed 
upon  her  children,  she  returned  from  the  sanctu- 
ary thankful  for  the  inestimable  privilege  which 
she  had  enjoyed.  Never  after  did  she  forget  the 
feelings,  and  the  vows  of  that  day.  Iler  children 
were  instructed  in  religion,  and  always  were  fa- 
vored with  a  living  example  of  its  excellency. 

When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  the  fam- 
ily, the  father  was  intemperate,  and  of  course 
neglectful  of  business  ;  and  the  children  were 
mostly  from  home  laboring  to  procure  a  comfort- 
able support  for  themselves  and  their  parents. 
Within  a  few  weeks  from  the  commencement 
9 


98       PREVALENCE  OF    A    MOTHER's    PRAYERb. 

of  my  ministerial  labors  in  that  place,  several  of 
the  sisters  in  the  church  (among  whom  was  the 
mother  of  this  family,)  agreed  to  set  apart  a  sea- 
son at  11  o'clock  each  day,  to  implore  the  bles- 
sing of  Almighty  God  on  their  respective  fami- 
lies. Not  long  had  this  concert  been  observed, 
before  it  was  ascertained  that  several  individuals 
belonging  to  these  families  were  convinced  of 
sin,  and  anxious  to  know  the  way  of  salvation. 
The  two  eldest  sons  of  this  godly  mother  were 
among  the  inquirers.  Encouraged  by  this  dis- 
covery, she  became  uncommonly  solicitous  for 
the  salvation  of  her  children,  especially  those 
who  were  serious. 

One  day,  after  coming  from  the  11  o'clock 
concert,  she  said  to  a  Christian  friend,  "  I  have 
had  peculiar  exercises  to  day,  while  praying  for 
my  family.  I  believe  the  Lord  is  about  to  do  a 
great  work  for  m(^,  and  that  one  of  my  children 
is  now,  or  will  very  soon  be  a  Christian.''  Her 
sons  were  at  this  time,  as  I  mentioned  above, 
living  from  home  in  another  neighborhood.  The 
evening  of  the  same  day,  I  had  a  lecture  in  that 
section  of  the  town,  and  the  second  son  was  pres- 
ent. While  the  people  were  assembling,  as  I 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  school-house,  this  youth 
came  to  me  with  tears  of  joy,  and  in  a  low  tone 
of  voice  said,  **  I  hope  1  have  found  the  Saviour  ! 
He  appears  precious  to  me  !  I  don't  know  but  I 
am  deceived,  but  I  hope  not."  After  giving  him 
some  advice,  the  people  being  collected^  1  went 
into  the  meeting.  This  young  man,  who  before 
was  gay  and  thoughtless,  has  from  that  time  giv- 
en evidence  of  a  saving  change.  Now,  whether 
God,  at  this  day,  does  sometimes  give  intimations 


PREVALENCE  OF  A  MOTHEr's  PRAYERS.   99 

to  his  children,  that  their  prayers  are  heard  and 
answered,  I  will  not  aliempl  to  decide. 

The  same  mother  had  similar  feelings  at  anoth- 
er time,  respecting  another  of  her  sons,  who  was 
hopefully  converted.  And  this  lady  is  not  inclin- 
ed to  enthusiasm.  She  is  a  person  of  talents  and 
considerable  information,  but  it  is  not  my  design 
in  this  paper  to  discuss  curious  questions.  My 
object  is  simply  to  relate  some  striking  facts 
which  stand  connected  with  the  prayers  of  this 
mother  in  Israel.  In  about  two  weeks  from  the 
lecture  just  mentioned,  her  oldest  son  carne  out 
boldly  on  the  Lord's  side.  In  two  months  more 
the  fourth  son,  after  having  been  deeply  impress- 
ed for  some  time,  began  to  express  a  trembling 
hope,  that  his  sins  were  pardoned  Three  months 
later  the  father  was  brought  to  feel  himself  to  be 
a  guilty,  perishing  sinner.  His  soul  was  full  of 
anguish,  in  view  of  his  past  sinfulness  of  heart 
and  life.  After  a  week  of  restless  nights  and 
anxious  days,  he  submitted  to  Christ.  Three 
months  from  this  the  third  son,  (the  only  adult 
member  of  the  family,  who  remained  unaffected.) 
was  pricked  in  the  heart,  and  cried  out,  "  What 
shall  1  do  to  be  saved?"  In  a  few  days  his  soul 
found  peace  in  the  Saviour. 

The  father  and  four  sons  have  all  united  with 
the  church  of  which  the  mother  was  a  member. 
I  have  seen  this  praying  woman  communing  at 
the  Lord's  Table  with  her  husband,  and  all  her 
adult  children.  And  I  have  heard  this  father 
and  each  of  these  sons  at  different  times  lead  in 
family  worship.  Two  of  the  sons  are  now  study- 
ing for  the  gospel  ministry. 


(   100  ) 


THE  MOTHER'S  REWARD. 

I  SAW  a  little  cloud  rising  in  the  western  hori- 
zon. In  a  few  moments  it  spread  over  the  expanse 
of  heaven,  and  watered  the  earth  with  a  genial 
shower.  I  saw  a  little  rivulet  start  from  a  moun- 
tain, winding  its  way  through  the  valley  and 
meadow,  receiving  each  tributary  rill,  which  it 
met  in  its  course,  till  it  became  a  mighty  stream, 
bearing  on  its  bosom  the  merchandise  of  many 
nations,  and  the  various  productions  of  the  adja- 
cent country. 

I  saw  a  little  seed  dropped  into  the  earth.  The 
dews  descended  ;  the  sun  rose  upon  it ;  it  started 
into  life.  In  a  little  time  it  spread  its  branches 
and  became  a  shelter  from  the  heat,  "  and  the 
fowls  of  heaven  lodged  in  its  branches." 

I  saw  a  little  smiling  boy  stand  by  the  side  of 
his  mother,  and  heard  him  repeat  from  her  lips, 
one  of  the  sweet  songs  of  Zion.  I  saw  him  kneel 
at  her  feet,  and  pray  that  Jesus  would  bless  his 
dear  parents,  the  world  of  mankind,  and  keep 
him  from  temptation.  In  a  little  time  I  saw  him 
with  the  books  of  the  classics  under  his  arm, 
walking  alone,  buiied  in  deep  thought.  I  went 
into  a  Sabbath  School,  and  heard  him  saying  to 
a  little  group  that  surrounded  him,  "  Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  me."  In  a  few  months,  I 
went  into  the  sanctuary,  and  heard  him  reasoning 
of"  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment  to 
come."  I  looked  and  saw  that  same  mother,  at 
whose  feet  he  had  knelt,  and  from  whose  lips  he- 
had  learned  to  lisp  the  name  of  Immanuel.    Her 


MATERNAL    PIETY.  101 

hair  Tvas  whitened  with  the  frosts  of  winter,  and 
on  hei  cheek  was  many  a  furrow ;  but  meekness 
sat  on  her  brow,  and  lieaven  beamed  in  her  dim 
eye,  glistening  with  a  tear  ;  and  1  thought  1  saw 
in  tha:  tear,  the  moving  of  a  mother's  heart, 
while  ^he  reverted  to  days  gone  by,  when  this 
Boanerjes  was  first  putting  into  life,  hanging  on 
her  lips,  listening  to  the  voice  of  instruction,  and 
inquirirg  in  child-like  simplicity,  the  way  to  be 
good  ;  and  I  said  this  is  the  rich  h.arvest  of  a 
mother's  toil ;  these  are  the  rich  sheaves  of  that 
precious  seed,  which  probably  was  sown  in  weep- 
ing, and  shall  bring  down  your  gray  hairs,  not 
"  with  sjrrow  to  the  grave,"  but  in  the  bower 
of  rest,  jou  shall  look  down  on  him,  who  "  will 
arise  and  call  you  blessed,"  and  finally  greet  you 
where  hope  is  swallowed  up  in  fruition,  and 
prayer  in  praise. 


MATERNAL  PIETY. 
2  Timothy  i.  5. 

Whem  I  say  that  there  is  a  connexion  between 
the  piet/  of  mothers,  and  the  salvation  of  their 
children,  I  do  not  mean  the  connexion  which 
God  has  instituted  in  the  covenant  of  grace,  for 
this  coi'enant  applies  equally  to  both  parents. 
There  is  somellnng  peculiar  in  the  case  of  a 
mother;  so  that  independently  of  the  covenant  of 
God,  maternal  piety  is  more  likely  to  be  followed 
by  the  conversion  of  children,  than  the  piety  of  a 
father. 

9* 


102  MATERNAL   PIETY. 

1.  This  connexion  is  very  simple.  A  mother^sr 
piety  is  peculiarly  affectionate.  There  is  nothing 
severe  or  ceremonious  in  its  exercise;  but  it 
mingles  itself  with  the  numberless  little  natural 
kindnesses,  by  which  the  heart  of  a  child  is  won, 
and  acquires  a  hold  on  the  first  rising  affections  o£ 
his  mind.  A  pious  mother,  while  she  vatches 
over  her  sleeping,  or  sick  child,  while  she  guides 
his  tottering  steps,  or  furnishes  him  for  his  school, 
or  his  pastime,  or  leads  him  up  to  the  bouse  of 
God,  has  a  yearning  of  the  soul  over  his  soul,  and 
cherishes  and  often  expresses  a  feeling  of  solici- 
tude for  his  eternal  welfare,  which  diffuses  a  re- 
straining and  chastening  influence  over  his  mind, 
while  it  is  precious  also  in  the  sight  of  God.  Her 
prayers,  which  she  pours  out  over  him,  are  in 
those  wonted  accents  of  tenderness  and  love, 
which  have  always  soothed  his  mind,  and  kindled 
his  affection.  Her  counsels,  and  admonitions,  and 
chastisements,  are  the  manifest  dictate  of  a  heart 
laboring  with  desires  for  his  conversion  and  sal- 
vation, and  carry  with  them,  on  that  account,  an 
authority,  which  truth  and  reason  alone  would  be 
unable  to  exert. 

2.  A  ?}iother's  piety  is  familiar.  It  labors 
with  her  child,  and  before  God  in  his  behalf,  in  a 
style,  which  he  understands  and  feels.  The  lan- 
guage of  her  counsels  and  her  devotions  is  a  sim- 
ple and  artless  expression  of  her  desires  adapted 
to  his  youth,  his  inexperience,  his  infirmities  and 
temptations.  It  comes  home  to  his  heairt.  He 
recognizes  the  voice  that  speaks  to  him  to-  be  the 
same  which  has  always  lulled  him  into  his  even- 
ing slumbers,  and  greeted  him  with  morni-jig  sal- 
utations: and  he   feels  that  it  means  as  much 


MATERNAL    PIETY.  103 

kindness  for  him,  when  speaking  in  counsel,  or 
in  prayer,  as  when  it  has  soothed  his  pains,  or 
tempted  his  smiles,  or  encouraged  his  festivities. 
If  a  father's  efforts  for  the  spiritual  good  of  his 
child  produce  more  of  reverence,  solemnity  and 
fear  ;  yet  a  mother  applies  herself  more  directly 
to  the  heart,  and  fcistens  there  a  cord,  which 
holds  the  affections  and  the  sensibilities,  when 
the  other  more  powerful  emotions  have  subsided. 
A  mother  will  teach  her  child,  will  soften,  or  re- 
strain, or  encourage  him,  with  incomparably 
more  facility  and  effect  than  any  other  individual. 
She  will  fix  in  his  mind  an  outline  of  the  whole 
history  of  the  Bible,  of  its  system  of  doctrines  and 
precepts,  sooner  and  better  than  any  other  per- 
son, can  initiate  him  into  the  first  principles  of 
Divine  knowledge.  He  understands  her  tones, 
her  looks,  her  gestures.  They  all  speak  to  him, 
and  they  fix  an  impression,  which  is  always  sure 
and  abiding.  And  there  is  no  time,  when  a  pious 
mother  cannot  have  access  to  her  child.  How 
soon  will  she  penetrate  his  heart,  and  ascertain 
the  causes  of  all  his  troubles,  how  soon  will  she 
allay  the  storm  of  passion,  how  soon  apply  to  him 
the  admonitions  of  Providence,  how  soon  excite 
an  inquisitive  spirit,  and  how  successfully  follow 
up  a  father's  sterner  reproof  and  correction,  with 
heart-breaking  expostulations,  reducing  him  to 
penitence  and  fortifying  him  against  future  temp- 
tation. A  pious  mother  is  a  sort  of  better  con- 
science to  a  child,  a  messenger  of  God  ever  the 
most  ready  and  the  most  able,  next  to  the  Holy 
Spirit,  to  rescue  him  from  the  power  of  his  de- 
pravity, and  turn  his  feet  into  the  paths  of  peace. 
3.  A  pious  mother  has  peculiar  opportunities 


104  MATERNAL  PIETY. 

of  saving  her  children.  She  is  ever  at  their  side 
to  restrain  their  corrupt  propensities,  to  regulate 
their  inordinate  desires,  and  encourage  them  to 
obedience.  She  can  turn  ahnost  every  event  of 
Providence  into  an  occasion  of  salutary  instruc- 
tion, can  mingle  counsel  as  it  were  with  their 
medicine  and  their  food,  can  be  ever  distilling 
upon  them  the  wholesome  words  of  eternal  life, 
as  the  dew  upon  the  tender  herb,  and  the  soft 
rain  that  waters  the  earth.  Her  mind  is  not 
burdened  with  cares  for  their  sustenance,  but 
with  anxieties  for  their  salvation  ;  and  while  pre- 
paring for  them  their  raiment,  while  superintend- 
ing their  tasks  or  their  sports,  she  can  be  lifting 
up  to  God  her  desires  for  their  everlasting  happi- 
ness. Her  watchful  eye  can  pierce  through  their 
duplicity,  and  search  out  their  secret  sins,  while 
the  leisure  that  God  gives  her  for  this  very  pur- 
pose can  be  employed  in  explaining  to  them  the 
obligations  and  sanctions  of  the  Divine  Law,  the 
nature  of  their  corruptions,  the  consequences  of 
their  sins,  and  the  way  of  salvation,  through  the 
atoning  sacrifice  of  Christ.  It  is  hers  to  com- 
mend them  to  God,  when  she  commits  them  to 
their  pillows,  and  when  she  leads  them  out  to  the 
employment  of  the  day.  They  may  enjoy  her 
guidance  as  their  constant  monitor,  till  they  are 
qualified  to  go  out  to  another  residence;  and  her 
daily  prayers,  and  frequent  correspondence  may 
afterwards  keep  alive  the  precious  instructions  of 
their  childhood,  and  procure  for  them  the  better 
teaching  and  direction  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  To 
the  mother  belongs  most  appropriately  the  duty 
and  privilege  of  administering  line  upon  line,  and 
precept  upon  precept.     To  bring  up  her  children 


NEVER  DECEIVE  CHILDREN.       105 

for  God  is  her  great  business,  her  honorable  dis- 
tinction, and  it  is  connected  in  the  Divine  Provi- 
dence with  lesuhs  the  most  encouraging  and  glo- 
rious. Not  indeed  that  there  is  any  intrinsic 
ethcacy  in  the  means,  which  she  employs,  not 
that  any  means  will  necessarili/  procure  the  sal- 
vation of  the  soul:  but  so  it  is  that  God  accom- 
plishes the  purposes  of  his  mercy.  He  saves 
according  to  his  pleasure  ;  but  he  saves  by  instru- 
ments naturally  fitted  for  his  purpose.  He 
sanctifies  the  mother's  heart,  that  heirs  of  glory 
may  be  educated  for  his  kingdom.  He  blesses 
her  counsels  and  her  prayers,  because  to  this  end 
he  so  qualified  her  to  promote  the  interests  of  his 
kincfdom. 


NEVER  DECEIVE  CHILDREN. 

A  mother  was  once  trying  to  persuade  her  lit- 
tle son  to  take  some  medicine.  The  medicine 
was  very  unpalatable,  and  she,  to  induce  him  to 
take  it,  declared  it  did  not  taste  bad.  He  did 
not  believe  her.  He  knew  by  sad  experience, 
that  her  word  was  not  to  be  trusted.  A  gentle- 
man and  friend  who  was  present,  took  the  spoon 
and  said, 

"  James,  this  is  medicine,  and  it  tastes  very  bad- 
ly, r  should  not  like  to  take  it,  but  I  would,  if 
necessary.  You  have  courage  enough  to  swal- 
low something,  which  does  not  taste  good?" 

*'  Yes,"  said  James,  looking  a  little  less  sulky, 
"  but  this  is  very  bad  indeed." 


106       NEVER  DECEIVE  CHILDREN. 

"  I  know  it/'  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  presume 
you  never  tasted  anything  much  worse."  The 
gentleman  then  tasted  of  the  medicine  himself, 
and  said,  "  it  is  really  very  unpleasant.  But  now 
let  us  see  if  you  have  not  resolution  enough  to 
lake  it,  bad  as  it  is." 

The  boy  hesitatingly  took  the  spoon. 

**  It  is,  really,  rather  bad,"  said  the  gentleman, 
"but  the  best  way  is  to  summon  all  your  resolu- 
tion and  down  with  it  at  once,  like  a  man." 

James  made,  in  reality,  a  great  effort  for  a 
child,  and  swallowed  the  dose.  And  whom  will 
this  child  most  respect,  his  deceitful  mother,  or 
the  honest  dealing  stranger?  And  whom  will  he 
hereafter  most  readily  believe?  It  ought,  how- 
ever, to  be  remarked,  that  had  the  child  been 
properly  governed,  he  should  at  once,  and  with- 
out a  murmur,  have  taken  what  his  mother  pre- 
sented. It  is  certainly,  however,  a  supposable 
case,  that  the  child  might,  after  all  the  argu- 
ments, refuse  to  do  his  duty.  What  course 
would  then  be  pursued?  Resort  to  compulsion, 
but  never  to  deceit.  We  cannot  deceive  our 
children  without  seriously  injuring  them,  and  de- 
stroying our  own  influence.  Frank  and  open 
dealing  is  the  only  safe  policy  in  family  govern- 
ment, as  well  as  on  the  wider  theatre  of  life. 
The  underhand  arts  and  cunning  manoeuvres  of 
the  intriguer,  are  sure,  in  the  end,  to  promote  his 
own  overthrow. 

Be  sincere  and  honest,  and  you  are  safe.  The 
only  sure  way  of  securing  beneficial  results  is  by 
virtuous  and  honorable  means. 


(    107   ) 


THE  COLLIER  BOY. 

By  a  sudden  burst  of  water  some  time  ago  into 
one  of  the  New  Castle  coal-pits,  thirty-five  men 
and  forty-one  boys  were  driven  into  a  distant 
part  of  the  pit,  from  which  they  could  not  re- 
turn, until  the  water  was  drawn  off:  while  this 
was  doing,  though  every  means  were  used,  the 
whole  number  died,  one  after  another,  either 
from  being  starved,  or  suffocated ;  when  the 
bodies  were  drawn  up  from  the  pit,  seven  of  the 
boys  were  found  in  a  cavern  by  themselves. 
Among  these  was  one  of  very  moral  and  religious 
habits ;  who  used  to  comfort  his  poor  widowed 
mother,  by  daily  reading  the  scriptures  to  her, 
when  he  came  up  from  his  labor.  After  his  fu- 
neral, a  friend  went  to  visit  her.  While  the  moth- 
er showed  him,  as  a  relic  of  her  son,  his  Bible, 
worn  and  soiled  by  constant  reading,  he  happen- 
ed to  cast  his  eyes  on  a  candle-box,  with  which, 
as  a  miner,  he  had  been  furnished;  and  which 
had  been  brought  up  from  the  pit  with  him. 
There  he  discovered  one  of  the  sweetest  records 
of  his  fiilial  affection  and  steadfast  piety,  that 
one  ever  heard  of.  In  the  darkness  of  the  suf- 
focating pit,  with  a  bit  of  pointed  iron,  he  en- 
graved on  the  box,  his  last  message  to  his  moth- 
er, in  these  words:  "  Fret  not,  my  dear  mother; 
for  we  were  singing  and  praising  God,  while  we 
had  time.  Mother,  follow  God  more  than  ever  I 
did.    Joseph,  be  a  good  lad  to  God  and  mother." 


(    108    ) 


THE  PRAYING  MOTHER. 

In  a  seaport  town  in  New  England,  lived  a 
pious  mother  of  six  daughters.  At  the  age  of 
sixty,  she  had  been,  for  many  years,  subject  to 
disease  and  infirmity,  which  confined  her  to  her 
house,  and  almost  to  her  room.  In  an  interview 
with  a  friend,  one  day,  she  said,  "  I  have  not,  for 
many  years,  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  going  to  the 
house  of  God  with  his  people,  and  taking  sweet 
counsel  with  them.  But  I  have  another  source 
of  grief  greater  than  this — one  that  weighs 
down  my  spirits  day  and  night,  while  disease  and 
pain  bear  my  body  towards  the  grave." 

Her  friend  tenderly  inquired  the  cause  of  this 
peculiar  grief.  She  replied,  "  I  have  six  daugh- 
ters;  two  are  married  and  live  near  me,  and 
four  are  with  me ;  but  not  one  of  them  gives  any 
evidence  of  piety.  /  am  alone.  I  have  no  one 
for  a  Christian  companion.  O  that  even  one  of 
them  was  pious,  that  I  might  walk  alone  no 
longer." 

Such  was  her  language.  Yet  she  seemed  sub- 
missive to  the  will  of  God,  whatever  it  might  be, 
having  strong  confidence  that  in  his  own  good 
time,  he  would  answer  her  daily  prayers,  and  in 
a  way,  which  would  best  advance  his  glory. 

Not  long  after  the  above  interview,  a  revival 
of  religion  commenced  in  the  town,  in  which 
she  lived.  Among  the  first  subjects  of  this  work 
were  four  of  her  daughters.  A  fifth  was  soon 
added  to  their  number ;  but  the  other,  the  eld- 
est, remained  unmoved.     One  day,  one  of  the 


THE  PRAYING  MOTHER.         109 

young  converts  proposed  to  her  mother  and  her 
converted  sisters,  to  observe  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer  for  the  sister,  who  continued  so  insensi- 
ble. The  agreement  was  made,  and  a  day  ob- 
served. Of  this,  the  subject  of  their  prayers 
had  no  know^ledge.  But  on  the  same  day,  while 
encraged  in  her  domestic  concerns  at  home,  her 
mind  was  solemnly  arrested  ;  and  she  was  soon 
added  to  the  Christian  sisterhood.  The  praying 
mother  lived  a  few  years  to  enjoy  their  Christian 
society.  They  surrounded  her  dying  bed,  re- 
ceived her  last  blessing,  and  unitedly  commend- 
ed her  spirit  to  God. 

Parents  are  apt  to  rest  contented,  if  one  or 
two  of  their  children  become  converted,  on  the 
ground,  that  it  is  too  much  to  expect  all  to  be- 
come the  subjects  of  sanctifying  grace.  This 
opinion  is  obviously  founded  upon  unbelief — upon 
circumscribed  views  of  the  free  and  rich  grace 
of  the  Gospel.  The  conversion  of  one  child  may 
well  be  employed  as  an  argument  with  God,  to 
extend  his  pardoning  mercy  to  others.  The 
power  which  subdues  is  never  weakened,  how 
often  soever  it  is  exercised  ;  nor  is  the  fountain 
of  Jesus'  blood  diminished  in  virtue,  how  deep 
and  numerous  the  stains  are,  which  it  washes 
away.  Let  Christian  parents  not  be  indifferent 
to  the  privilege,  which  they  enjoy,  of  asking  in- 
definite spiritual  blessings  for  their  households — 
nor  neglectful  of  the  duty  inculcated  in  the 
parable,  by  which  Jesus  Christ  taught  that  '*  men 
should  always  pray,  and  never  faint." 


10 


(   HO  ) 


THE  DEATH  BED. 

**  O  for  an  overcoming  faith, 

To  clieer  my  dying  hour, 
To  triumph  o'or  the  monster,  death, 

And  all  his  frightful  power  !  " 

With  the  subject  of  the  following  sketch,  I 
had  been  intimately  acquainted  for  several  years. 
She  was  an  exemplary  member  of  the  church, 
and  a  most  indulgent  mother  of  the  little  flock, 
the  care  of  which  the  Lord  had  devolved  upon 
her.  As  a  wife  and  friend,  she  was  loving  and 
beloved.  Early  in  life,  her  disease  commenced 
the  ravages,  which  ultimately  proved  fatal  : — 
even  while  her  children  were  very  young,  she 
was  destined  to  an  early  grave. 

The  hour  of  parting  with  her  children  v/as  one 
of  deep  interest.  She  anticipated  it,  and  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  her  Almighty  Friend,  she  stood 
prepared,  and  serene  and  calm  met  the  shock  of 
nature,  and  triumphed  over  it. 

A  few  days  previous  to  her  decease,  one  of  her 
brothers,  to  whom  she  was  particularly  attached, 
came  in  to  see  her,  and  addressed  her,  saying, 
"  Well,  sister,  you  are  still  with  us  a  little  long- 
er in  this  troublesome  world."  She  replied, 
"Yes,  but  it  will  not  be  long;  I  have  nearly 
reached  the  end  of  my  journey,  and  will  soon 
leave  you  all."  "  But  do  you  not  feel  some  re- 
luctance at  the  thought  of  leaving  all  your  little 
motherless  children  here?"  "  O  brother,  I 
have  no  children."  '' Why,  sister,  you  forget, 
surely  your  mind  must  be  somewhat  affected ; 


THE    DEATH    BED.  Ill 

don't  you  forget  ?  O,  brother,  they  are  the 
Lord's  children.  They  were  his  before  he  put 
tliem  into  my  hands.  He  gave  them  to  me  to 
take  care  of  them  for  him,  and  I  have  tried  to 
do  so,  and  1  liave  long  ago  given  them  all  back 
to  him  as  his  own, — they  are  not  mine.  While 
I  was  with  them,  he  himself  had  to  take  care  of 
and  keep  mc ;  and  now  he  no  longer  needs  my 
care  of  them,  but  knows  how  to  take  care  of 
them  in  the  very  best  way,  and  he  will  do  it." 

Such  were  the  death-beil  feelings  ofoneof  the 
kindest  of  mothers,  when  looking  round  on  her 
little  flock,  who  stood  by  her  bed-side,  weeping 
indeed,  but  unconscious  of  the  greatness  of  the 
loss  they  were  soon  to  sustain.  On  the  day  she 
departed,  I  was  with  her,  sitting  by  her  bed-side, 
when  she  still  retained  the  most  perfect  exercise 
of  her  mind.  I  spoke  to  her  of  her  departure, 
as  being  not  far  distant.  She  answered  me, — 
"  O,  I  would  rejoice  that  the  hour  were  come! 
When  will  my  Lord  come,  and  take  me  to  him- 
self? "  I  suggested  to  her,  that  the  Lord  would 
have  her  to  be  patient  and  resigned,  to  wait  his 
time."  She  answered,  '*  O  yes,  the  Lord's  time 
is  best;  I  would  not  go  a  njoment  before  it  is  his 
will  I  should  go.  Let  him  do  with  me  as  he 
sees  best.  Still,  I  long  to  depart,  and  be  with 
Christ,  which  is  far  better."  1  asked  her,  if  she 
could  trust  herself  in  the  hands  of  Jesus  Christ. 
She  replied,  "O  yes,  I  can  trust  all  in  his 
hands.  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives,  and 
that  I  shall  see  him  for  myself,  and  not  another." 
A  few  minutes  (not  exceeding  five)  before  she 
breathed  her  last,  she  elevated  both  her  hands, 
and  with  a  voice  to  be  heard   all  over  the  room, 


112  '  MOTHER,    I    WILL    GO. 

she  exclaimed,  "  Come — come — Lord  Jesus — 
come  quickly!  "  Her  arms  sunk  down  on  her 
bosom,  her  breathing  became  soft,  and,  without 
a  struggle  or  groan,  she  sweetly  slept  on  the  bo- 
som of  her  God. 

Well  might  a  Balaam  have  cried  out  at  such  a 
sight:  ''Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous, 
and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 

Blessed,  blessed  religion,  that  can  not  only  be- 
guile the  toils,  and  soothe  the  ills  of  life,  but  un- 
sting  death  itself,  by  faith  in  the  promise  of  the 
Lord.  What  has  the  world  to  compare  with 
this  triumph,  of  an  affectionate  dying  mother! 
Let  earthly  minds  divide  among  themselves  all 
they  can  find  beneath  the  sun  ;  but  give  me  my 
God.  Let  me  walk  with  him  while  I  live,  and 
when  I  die,  let  his  rod  and  staff  comfort  me,  and 
his  smile  cheer  me ;  and  I  can  joyfully  yield  to 
others  the  richest  boon  of  earth,  while  I  tri- 
umphantly exclaim — 

Welcome,  sweet  hour  of  full  discharge. 
That  sets  my  longing  soul  at  large  ; 
Unbinds  my  chain,  breaks  up  my  cell, 
And  gives  me  with  my  God  to  dwell  ! 


"MOTHER,  I  WILL  GO." 

Some  years  since,  a  fine  young  man,  the  only 
son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow,  on  be- 
coming of  age,  and  receiving  his  patrimony,  en- 
tered into  company,  and  indulged  in  the  dissipa- 


A    WARNING    TO    WICKED    PARENTS.         113 

tion  of  genteel  society.  Her  watchful  eye  saw 
his  danger,  pointed  out  its  tendency  to  ruin  of 
body  and  soul,  and  used  every  argument,  persua- 
sion, and  entreaty  in  vain.  One  day,  she  learn- 
ed he  was  to  dine  with  a  large  and  jovial  party, 
and  she  spent  the  forenoon  in  persuading  him  to 
relinquish  it,  but  all  in  vain.  "  Mother,  I  will 
go  !  "  "  Then,  John,  I  will  retire  to  my  closet, 
and  pray  for  you,  till  I  see  your  face  again." 
He  went  to  the  party,  but  could  find  no  enjoy- 
ment ;  the  thought  of  his  mother  being  on  her 
knees,  wrestling  with  God  in  prayer  for  him, 
formed  such  a  contrast  to  the  scene  before  him, 
that  he  slipped  away — found  his  mother  in  the 
act  of  prayer — knelt  down  by  her — fell  on  her 
neck — and  from  that  day  became  the  delight  of 
his  pious  mother's  heart  :  a  brand  rescued  from 
the  burning.  A  religious  parent's  prayers  are 
never  offered  in  vain. 


A  WARNING  TO  WICKED  PARENTS. 

A  few  days  since,  in  one  of  my  pastoral  visits, 
I  called  on  a  family,  the  female  head  of  which 
was  the  daughter  of  a  Baptist  minister,  and  had 
once  been  a  member  of  a  Methodist  church.  But 
she  had  grievously  fallen  away  from  her  profes- 
sion. She  was  now  living  without  a  Bible  in  her 
house,  and  had  not  attended  public  worship  for 
more  than  two  years.  She  had  an  interesting 
little  daughter,  an  only  child,  about  seven  years 
10* 


114         A    WARNING   TO  WICKED  PARENTS. 

old.  I  urged  her  to  send  this  child  to  the  Sab- 
bath School.  But  having  often  said  before  that 
she  would  rather  see  her  child  dead,  than  at  the 
Sunday  School,  she  still  refused  to  send  her.  I 
urged  upon  her  conscience  the  sinfulness  of  her 
conduct,  and  left  her  in  tears.  After  I  was  gone, 
the  little  girl,  who  had  heard  our  conversation, 
began  to  tease  her  mother  to  let  her  go  to  the 
Sunday  School,  and  asked  her,  among  other 
things,  why  she  did  not  learn  her  to  pray,  and 
teach  her  about  God,  and  how  to  be  good,  as 
some  of  the  neighbors  did  their  children.  The 
whole  scene,  and  remarks  from  myself  and  the 
child,  overcame  the  stubbornness  of  the  mother, 
and  she  promised  the  little  girl  that  she  should 
go,  as  she  had  requested  on  the  next  Sabbath, 
and  made  the  necessary  preparations  for  sending 
her.  This  took  place  on  Wednesday  : — on  Fri- 
day, the  child  was  taken  violently  sick,  and  on 
the  Sabbath  she  died.  Thus  this  wretched  moth- 
er had  her  choice,  and  saw  her  daughter  dead, 
instead  of  being  at  the  Sabbath  School,  on  the 
very  day  she  had  intended  to  send  her.  She 
sent  for  me,  and  related  all  the  circumstances, 
with  such  ansfuish  as  cannot  be  described. 


( 115 ) 


BE  YE  WISE  AS  SERPENTS. 

Mrs.  a.  made  a  profession  of  relia^ion  in  1826. 
Mr.  A.  is  not  a  professor,  though  he  is  kind  to 
his  wife,  affords  her  every  opportunity  of  attend- 
ing religious  meetings,  &,c.  In  return,  Mrs.  A. 
is  frequently  tallying  of  her  husband's  being 
"  quite  hardened  and  thouglitless."  In  the  pres- 
ence of  both  strangers  and  neighbors,  she  will 
say,  "O,  Mr.  A.  I  wish  you  would  get  religion — 
I  wish  you  would."  Now,  all  this  is  doubtless 
true,  and  he  ought  to  be  reminded  of  it  by  the 
wife  of  his  bosom,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
convince  him  that  she  prays  for  him,  and  feels 
more  than  she  expresses.  But  she  has  talked  to 
him  so  much,  and  in  so  improper  a  manner,  as 
that  I  wonder  he  bears  it,  when  I  remember  that 
his  '*  mind  is  at  enmity  against  God."  Yet  he 
does  bear  it,  and  apparently  without  irritation  ; 
but  it  is  evident  that  his  respect  and  affection  for 
his  wife  are  gradually  diminishing.  He  has  be- 
come so  accustomed  to  this  *'  clinking"  of  the 
house  bell,  that  it  makes  no  good  impression  on 
him.  Once,  pious  conversation  affected  him  ; 
now,  it  does  not,  and  he  is  gradually  losing  his 
respect  for  religion.  His  wife,  hopefully  very 
pious,  but  injudicious,  is  making  sad  work  with 
him.  Wives!  take  care  how  you  talk  to  your 
non-professing  husbands.  "  Be  ye  wise  as  ser- 
pents." Live  religion.  Pray  much,  and  choose 
out  acceptable  words  and  seasons. 


(    116   ) 


THE  CHURCH  CONERENCE. 

A  LITTLE  number  of  the  members  of  the  church 
had  assembled  in  the  house  of  God,  to  review 
their  religious  experience.  A  man  in  the  midst 
of  life  arose  and  said:  — "  Whenever  I  examine 
the  evidence,  on  which  my  hope,  that  I  am  a 
Christian,  rests,  my  thoughts  recur  to  a  passage 
of  my  early  history.  It  was  the  habit  of  my 
mother,  when  I  retired  to  bed,  to  teach  me  to 
pray,  and  occasionally  to  give  me  religious  in- 
struction. One  evening  my  attention  was  awak- 
ened by  my  mother's  words,  and  1  dwelt  upon 
them  in  the  night  with  great  interest.  I  seemed 
to  be  able  to  address  my  thoughts  to  the  Saviour, 
and  to  cast  myself  upon  his  mercy.  And,  as  far 
as  I  can  judge,  my  sentiments  and  feelings  were 
then  of  the  sam.e  cast  as  those,  which  now  enter 
into  my  religious  character,  and  which  I  hope, 
are  truly  Christian^'  His  father,  an  old  and 
respectable  member  of  the  church,  addressed 
him,  and  said,  —  "David  do  you  not  remember 
the  conversation  I  held  with  you  in  the  garden, 
when  you  was  a  boy,  one  morning  respecting  the 
interests  of  your  soul?  J  asked  you  if  you  ever 
thought  of  divine  and  eternal  things  ;  and  you  re- 
plied with  tears  :" — "They  are  in  my  thoughts,  fa- 
ther, all  the  time."  The  child  could  not  forget  the 
evening  when  the  sweet  voice  of  his  mother,  (who 
long  since  had  fallen  asleep,)  persuaded  him  to 
trust  in  the  Saviour ;  nor  the  father,  the  morn- 
ing, when  he  saw  the  tears  of  penitence,  as  he 
hoped,  bedew  the  cheeks  of  his  little  son.     Some 


AFFECTION  TO  PARENTS  REWARDED.         117 

thirty  years  had  passed  away ;  and  this  was  the 
first  time,  that  the  father  and  the  son  had  corn- 
pared  their  interesting  recollections  with  each 
other. 

I  said  to  myself,  it  is  not  certain  my  instruc- 
tions and  admonitions  do  not  impress  my  chil- 
dren's hearts,  because  they  do  not  immediately 
exhibit  the  ripe  fruits  of  piety.  Divine  truth  may 
begin  "to  take  effect,"  long  before  any  marked 
and  clear  indication  of  its  influence  shall  meet 
even  a  father's  eye. 

When  pious  parents  and  pious  children  meet 
together  in  "the  sweet  fields"  above,  and,  be- 
neath the  shadow  of  Messiah's  throne,  repeat  to 
each  other  the  story  of  their  salvation,  with  what 
touching  recollections  will  they  not  mutually  de- 
light each  other ! 


AFFECTION  TO  PARENTS  REWARDED. 

Frederic,  the  late  king  of  Prussia,  having 
rung  his  bell  one  day,  and  nobody  answering, 
opened  the  door,  where  his  servant  was  usually 
in  waiting,  and  found  him  asleep  on  a  sofa:  he 
was  going  to  awake  him,  when  he  perceived  the 
end  of  a  billet  or  letter  hanging  out  of  his  pocket. 

Having  the  curiosity  to  know  its  contents,  he 
took  and  read  it,  and  found  it  was  a  letter  from 
his  mother,  thanking  him  for  liaving  sent  her  a 
part  of  his  wages  to  assist  her  in  distress,  and 
concluding  with  beseeching  God  to  bless  him  for 
his  filial  attention  to  her  wants. 


118        AFFECTION  TO  PARENTS  REWARDED. 

The  king  returned  softly  to  his  room,  took  a 
rouleau  of  ducats  and  slid  them  with  the  letter 
into  the  page's  pocket.  Returning  to  his  apart- 
ment, he  rung  so  violently,  that  the  page  awoke, 
opened  the  door  and  entered.  '*  You  have  slept 
well,"  said  the  king.  The  page  made  an  apolo- 
gy, and  in  his  embarrassment  happened  to  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and  felt  with  astonishment 
the  rouleau.  He  drew  it  out,  turned  pale,  and 
looking  at  the  king,  burst  into  tears,  without  be- 
ing able  to  speak  a  word.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter 1 "  said  the  king,  "  What  ails  you  'I  "  "  Ah, 
sire,"  said  the  young  man,  throwing  himself  at 
his  feet,  "  somebody  has  wished  to  ruin  me.  I 
know  not  how  I  came  by  this  money  in  my  pock- 
et." "  My  friend,"  said  Frederic,  "God  often 
setids  us  good  in  our  sleep  :  send  the  money  to 
your  mother,  salute  her  in  my  name;  and  assure 
her  that  I  shall  take  care  of  her  and  you." 

Parents  have  a  natural  claim  on  their  children 
for  support;  and  relieving  aged  parents,  when 
bodily  strength  decays,  infirmities  and  wants  in- 
crease, is  not  only  an  act  of  mercy  and  true  be- 
nevolence, but  also  an  act  of  justice, — an  impe- 
rious duty, — a  repaying  in  kind  what  they  did 
for  their  children,  in  their  tender  helpless  years. 


(    119  ) 


THE  SAILOR'S  FAITH. 

A  WILD  young  man,  who  had,  contrary  to  his 
father's  advice, left  his  paternal  roof,  to  follow  the 
sea,  desires  to  record  the  following  facts  to  the 
honor  of  his  God.  His  father  was  a  man  of  pie- 
ty, and  was  in  the  habit  of  daily  family  prayer. 
As  the  vessel  was  on  her  homeward  voyage  from 
Europe,  she  was  overtaken  by  a  dreadful  storm, 
by  which  she  was  driven  to  and  fro  by  the  fierce 
winds,  and  finally  sprung  a-leak.  In  this  perilous 
situation  the  hearts  of  the  crew  began  to  fail 
them;  for,  notwithstanding  the  pumps  were 
worked  with  all  diligence,  the  leak  gained  fast 
upon  them,  until  finally  all  hopes  of  saving  the 
ship  forsook  them,  and  they  gave  themselves  up 
for  lost.  This  thoughtless  youth  now  began  to 
remember  the  prayers  of  his  father,  and  took  to 
prayer  for  himself  and  shipmates.  Being  the 
m.ate  of  the  vessel,  the  captain  came  to  him,  and 
in  great  perturbation  said,  "  We  are  lost !  the 
vessel  will  float  but  a  short  time  longer  !  "  To 
this  the  mate  answered  not,  but  continued  walk- 
ing fore  and  aft,  in  a  thoughtful  and  praying 
mood.  "  At  last,"  says  the  mate,  "  I  gave  a 
shout  ofjoy,  crying  out,  We  are  safe  !  We  are 
safe !  We  cannot  be  lost,  neither  can  the  vessel 
sink."  The  captain  asked  with  great  earnest- 
ness for  reasons,  as  the  appearance  of  things  was 
so  unfavorable.  The  mate,  however,  instead  of 
stopping  to  explain  his  reasons,  instantly  laid 
hold  of  the  pump,  saying  with  a  loud  voice,  "  My 
father's  hour   of  prayer  is  come,  and  he  is  now 


V20  PRAYER    ANSWERED. 

interceding  in  my  behalf!  "  The  others  seeing 
my  joyful  countenance,  my  faith,  and  exertions, 
seized  hold  of  the  pump  also.  We  accordingly 
succeeded  in  keeping  the  vessel  afloat,  until  the 
wind  abated,  the  sails  set,  and  we  finally  arrived 
safe  in  port.  This  remarkable  providence  was  a 
means  of  leading  the  prodigal  youth  to  his  hea- 
venly Father's  house,  and  to  the  Saviour's  love, 
in  which  he  is  now  rejoicing. 


PRAYER  ANSWERED. 

Captain ,  of ,  was,  about  seven  years 

since,  awakened  to  the  concerns  of  his  soul. 
He  continued  anxious  for  some  time,  and  though 
he  did  not  give  up  his  heart  to  God,  still  he  con- 
tinued serious,  and  so  far  as  his  business  would 
permit,  attended  to  religious  instruction.  About 
five  months  since  he  returned  from  a  voyage,  at 
a  time  when  a  protracted  meeting  was  in  pro- 
gress in  his  native  town,  the  effects  of  which 
were  witnessed  in  a  multitude  of  those  who  were 
anxious.      When  this  state  of  things  was  known 

to  Captain ,  he  felt   and  said,  that   this  was 

the  last  call  that  God  would  ever  give  him,  and 
that,  if  he  did  not  obtain  the  forgiveness  of  his 
sins  during  the  few  days  he  had  to  remain  in 
port,  in  all  probability  he  must  die  without  hope. 
So  far  as  practicable,  he  attended  the  exercises  of 
the  protracted  meeting,  and  other  meetings. 
Many  prayers  were  offered  for  him.     A  pious 


PRAYER    ANSWERED. 


121 


mother  and  many  other  friends,  the  church  and 
their  minister,  plead  with  him,  and  with  God. 
But  his  heart  did  not  break.  In  case  tiie  weath- 
er was  favorable,  he  was  to  sail  on  Thursday, 
and  it  was  now  Wednesday  ;  the  heavens  were 
clear  and  the  winds  were  gently  blowing.  With 
what  feelings  would  a  pious  mother,  and  other 
friends  oflfer  their  evening  sacrifice,  and  ask  the 
blessing  of  God  on  a  dear  friend,  whose  eternal 
destiny  seemed  about  to  be  sealed  ?  They  pray- 
ed— not  as  formerly,  that  God  would  give  him  a 
new  heart — but  that  he  w(;uid  graciously  send  a 
siorm  to  disturb  the  bosom  of  the  mighty  deep, 
till  their  friend  should  find  peace  in  believing. 
And  soon  the  heavens  gathered  blackness,  and 
the  waves  ran  mountains  liigh.  Now  hope  was 
encouraged,  and  prayer  was  ardent.  But  the  day 
passed  away — the  night  came,  and  the  sailor  was 
an  anxious  sinner  still.  Friday  morning  came; 
a  lovelier  morning  never  dawned  ;  for  the  sun 
rose  without  a  cloud  ;  the  winds  were  hushed  ; 
the  ocean  was  calm  as  the  summer  evening;  and 
everlasting  thanks  to  him  who  heareth  prayer, 
the  clouds  aL  thick  darkness  of  unpardoned  sins 
had  passed  away  from  the  sailor's  mind,  and  af- 
ter a  few  mojnents  of  social  thanksgiving,  he 
went  to  sea,  in  the  judgment  of  charity,  a  pious, 
praying  captain. 


11 


(   122  ) 


EVIL  EFFECTS  OF  INDULGING  A  CHILD  IN 
VAIN  PLEASURES. 

Mrs.  B.  received  a  religious  education,  and 
in  early  life,  thought  she  was  made  a  subject  of 
renewing  grace.  She  and  her  husband,  soon  af- 
ter they  were  married  united  with  the  church  in 

G ,  under  the   pastoral   charge   of  the   Rev. 

Mr. .  For  several  years,  both  were  regard- 
ed somewhat  eminent  for  their  piety,  and  love  of 
every  good  work.  Mrs.  B.  possessed  naturally  an 
unusual  degree  of  versatility  of  mind,  yet  she 
was  much  beloved  as  a  neighbor  and  a  Chris- 
tian.  Ihe  sisters  in  the  church  would  frequent- 
ly refer  to  her  as  one,  whose  example  they  con- 
sidered worthy  of  imitation.  Thus  years  passed 
away. 

Mrs.  B.  became  the  mother  of  several  inter- 
esting children.  The  eldest  was  a  daughter. 
As  her  intellectual  powers  began  to  expand,  she 
was  regarded  by  her  parents,  and  I  think  I  may 
say,  by  others,  as  a  child  of  uncommon  promise. 
Eliza,  for  this  was  her  name,  soon  began  to  en- 
gross the  attention  of  her  parents,  and  to  be- 
come the  all-absorbing  theme  of  their  conversa- 
tion, both  at  home  and  abroad.  At  the  early 
age  of  twelve  years,  she  was  thrust  into  the  so- 
ciety of  those  much  older  than  herself,  to  en- 
gage in  the  vanities  of  youth,  and  was  received 
by  the  young  people  of  the  village,  for  her  pa- 
rents' sake,  with  tokens  of  respect.  From  this 
time,  Mrs.  B.  made  frequent  parties  of  pleasure 
for  the  purpose  of  "  bringing  Eliza  forward,  so 


EVIL  EFFECTS  OF  INDULGING   A  CHILD,  ETC.     123 

that  she  mii^lit  appear  respectable."  The  girl's 
vanit)'  was  greatly  increased,  and  her  mother 
was  disposed  to  gratify  it  to  liie  utmost  extent. 
Mrs.  B.  spent  no  small  portion  of  her  time  in 
maUinor  dresses,  and  preparing  her  daugliler  for 
the-ball  room,  or  the  pleasure-party.  Some  of 
the  pious  members  of  the  church  intimated  to 
her,  that  she  was  too  fond  of  having  her  daugh- 
ter engage  in  such  vanities,  but  to  no  purpose. 
She  was  her  idol,  and  her  wishes  must  be  grati- 
fied. 

At  length,  God,  who  will  not  give  his  glory  to 
another,  visited  this  family  with  distressing  sick- 
ness— Mrs.  B.  was  brought  low  by  a  raging  fe- 
ver. Her  physician  and  friends  considered  her 
case  desperate,  and  Mrs.  B.  had  no  expectation 
herself  of  recovering.  In  this  trying  hour,  she 
thought  of  the  God  she  had  robbed — the  Saviour 
she  had  abused.  But  a  heavy,  an  impenetrable 
cloud  hung  over  her  soul.  Jesus  hid  his  face, 
and  none  could  comfort  her.  When  pointed  to 
the  Saviour  and  reminded  of  the  fullness  of  the 
atonement,  and  Christ's  willingness  to  receive 
all  who  would  come  to  him,  she  replied,  *'  Oth- 
ers may  hope,  but  there  is  no  hope  for  me."  It 
was  evident,  she  could  not  survive  many  days, 
and  she  appeared  to  have  no  doubt  her  portion 
must  he  with  the  damned.  Her  reason  was  con- 
tinued to  the  last,  and  she  would  frequently  re- 
quest her  minister  and  Christian  friends  to  pray 
with  her;  but  with  almost  the  same  breath  would 
say,  "  It  is  of  no  use  :  God  will  not  hear  prayers 
offered  for  me  :  pray  for  my  family — pray  for 
those  who  have  not  thus  abused  the  Son  of  God." 
As  her  daughter  passed  through  the  room,  a  little 


124     EVIL  EFFECTS  OF  INDULGING  A  CHILD,  ETC. 

before  her  death,  Mrs.  B.,  with  indescribable  an- 
guish depicted  upon  her  countenance,  fixed  her 
eyes  upon  her,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  tone  wiiich 
seemed  to  proceed  almost  from  the  prison  of  des- 
pair, "  O  Eliza,  you  have  hecn  the  cause  of  all 
this.  I  have  made  you  my  idol,  and  thus  destroy- 
ed my  soul.  O,  if  you  had  died  in  your  infan- 
cy, my  soul  might  have  been  saved;  but  now  there 
is  no  hope  for  me;  1  must  be  damned.''^ 

Her  situation  excited  the  sympathies  of  her 
friends  and  neighbors,  and  many  repaired  to  her 
bedside,  during  the  last  days  of  her  sickness. 
In  a  most  solemn  manner,  she  warned  several 
members  of  the  church  to  avoid  the  course  she 
had  pursued, — not  to  place  their  affections  too 
much  upon  their  children,  or  encourage  them  in 
vain  pursuits.  "  Here,"  said  she,  "you  see  the 
consequences  of  such  a  course." 

"  The  dear  delights  we  here  enjoy, 
Are  but  a  foe  to  grace." 

She  died  after  a  ^ew  days  of  unutterable  an- 
guish of  soul,  leaving  her  companion  and  friends 
to  reflect  upon  the  sad  consequences  of  loving 
son  or  daughter  more  than  Christ. 


(    125  ) 


THE  CONVERTED  HUSBAND. 

In  a  viliage  in  one  of  the  New  England  stales, 
some  years  since,  at  the  commencement  of  a 
powcrlul  revival  of  religion,  among  other  indi- 
viduals who  came  to  converse  with  their  minister 
upon  religious  10  j)ics,  was  a  ^Irs.  B.,  the  mot  her  of  a 
large  and  interesting  family.  Two  of  her  children 
had  already  grown  to  maturity.  She  informed 
her  pastor  that  she  had  entertained  a  hope  of  an 
interest  in  Christ  for  sixteen  years;  but  that  she 
had  been  induced  to  defei  uniting  herself  to  the 
people  of  God  by  the  remonstrances  of  her  hus- 
band. By  his  great  kindness,  he  had  acquired 
such  an  ascendency  over  her  aflections,  that  to 
please  him,  had  been,  she  feared,  the  chief  ob- 
ject of  her  wisiies  and  pursuits.  Within  a  few 
weeks,  her  eyes  had  been  opened  to  perceive  the 
superior  claims  of  the  Gospel.  She  now  realized 
for  the  first  time  that  her  husband  and  children 
were  travelling  the  broad  road  together.  They 
never  had  reared  a  family  altar. 

Although  from  custom  they  frequented  the  house 
of  God  on  the  Sabbath,  yet  the  truths  of  the  Bi- 
ble had  never  found  a  lodgement  in  any  of  their 
hearts.  She  now  felt  satisfied  that  it  was  her 
duty  to  take  up  her  cross  and  follow  Christ.  **  I 
have  been  deluded,"  said  Mrs.  B.,  *'by  the  be- 
lief that  my  way  was  hedged  up  by  an  insur- 
mountable obstacle.  I  have  substituted  the  good 
opinion  of  my  husband,  for  the  approbation  and 
smiles  of  my  Saviour."  "  I  advise  you  to  con- 
verse with  your  husband  on  the  subject,"  said 
11* 


126  THE    CONVERTED    HUSBAND. 

her  minister.  Mrs.  B.  replied,  "  I  have  of  late  re- 
peatedly urged  my  liusband  to  yield  his  content; 
but  he  says,  if  I  profess  religioji,  he  will  never 
live  with  me  another  day.  Tliough  I  fear  the 
consequences  of  going  forward  in  the  way  that 
my  conscience  dictates,  may  be  painful,  yet  I 
fear  still  more  the  evils  that  threaten  my  family, 
if  1  continue  to  neglect  a  known  and  positive 
duty."  Her  minister  promised  to  propound  her 
for  admission. 

On  returning  home  from  worship,  on  the  day 
that  she  was  received  into  the  chuich,  Mr.  B. 
told  his  wife,  as  she  knew  his  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject of  her  professing  religion,  he  should  be  con- 
sistent with  his  former  declarations,  and  ordered 
separate  lodgings  to  be  prepared  for  him  that 
night.  His  wife  silently  and  implicitly  acceded 
to  his  wishes. 

The  next  morning,  he  told  his  family  that  im- 
perious business  called  him  from  home,  to  be  ab- 
sent a  few  days.  His  horses  and  carriage  were 
soon  in  readiness,  and  he  hastily  and  abruptly 
left  his  dwelling. 

Mrs.  B.  now  felt  the  necessity  of  exercising 
that  faith,  which  is  as  an  anchor  to  the  soul. 
But  she  said  within  herself,  *'  Shall  a  man  com- 
plain for  the  punishment  of  his  sins?  " 

Immediately  on  Mr.  B.'s  leaving  home,  Mrs. 
B.  requested  her  eldest  daughter  to  manage  the 
household  concerns  in  the  best  manner  she  was 
able,  that  she  might  herself  enjoy  the  privilege 
of  retiring  with  her  Bible,  to  her  closet.  The 
day  was  spent  in  fasting  and  prayer,  and  in  read- 
ing lessons  of  heavenly  wisdom  from  the  word 
of  God. 

To  her  great  joy,  every  page  seemed  illumin- 


THE  CONVERTED  HUSBAND.       127 

ed  as  with  a  sunbeam.  She  now  felt  that  she 
could  bear  the  loss  of  all  things  for  the  sake  of 
Him,  who  bore  her  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the 
tree.  Iler  soul,  though,  elevated  above  the  per- 
ishable things  of  time  and  sense,  was  in  heavi- 
ness at  the  thought  of  an  eternal  separation  from 
him,  whom  she  so  dearly  loved — from  the  com- 
panion of  her  youth,  and  perhaps,  too,  from  her 
beloved  children.  She  upl)raided  heiself  as  an 
accessary,  if  not  the  guilty  occasion  of  their  life 
of  worldliness;  for  had  she  fulfilled  the  sacred 
obligations  imposed  by  an  early  hope  of  recon- 
ciliation to  God,  her  husband  and  her  children 
might,  long  since,  have  been  devout  worshippers 
in  the  courts  of  the  Lord. 

It  was  nearly  sunset,  when  the  noise  of  rat- 
tling wheels  arrested  her  attention.  Till  now, 
no  external  object  had  disturbed  her  thoughts. 
The  door  suddenly  opened,  and  her  husband 
stood  pale  and  trembling  by  her  side. 

"  My  dear  wife,"  he  exclaimed,  *'  can  you  for- 
give your  misguided  husband?  I  have  learned 
by  sad  experience  this  day,  by  the  way  side,  that 
my  opposition  against  you  originated  in  hostility 
to  the  claims  of  God.  Can  you  forgive  me,  and 
will  you  supplicate  the  forgiveness  of  God  for 
me  ?  for  I  have  no  cloak,  or  excuse  for  the  least 
of  my  sins." 

Under  an  overwhelming  &«nse  of  the  good- 
ness of  God,  in  thus  subduing  and  enlightening 
the  mind  of  her  dearest  earthly  friend,  they  pros- 
trated themselves  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  and 
wept,  and  confessed  before  the  Lord  their  sins  of 
heart  and  life.  Mr.  B.  informed  his  wife,  that  on 
leaving  her  in   the   morning,  he  went  in  direct 


128       THE  CONVERTED  HUSBAND, 

opposition  to  the  dictates  of  an  enlightened  con- 
science;  that  her  silent  and  acquiescent  conduct 
proved  to  him  indubitably  the  efficacy  of  reli- 
gion ;  and  when  contrasted  with  his  own  feel- 
ings, then  'Mashed  into  a  storm,"  his  soul  was 
filled  with  shame  and  remorse.  At  times,  he  ex- 
pected to  be  dashed  to  the  ground;  twice  he 
alighted  from  iiis  carriage,  and  falling  upon  his 
knees,  he  would  have  confessed  his  sin  and  guilt, 
but  his  mind  was  dark  and  his  heart  was  hard. 
He  faintly  ejaculated,  *'  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner."  But  on  resuming  his  seat  in  his  car- 
riage, with  an  involuntary  grasp,  he  held  the 
reins,  as  if  his  horses  were  hurrying  him  for- 
ward with  uncommon  velocity.  His  business 
was  at  M.,  sixteen  miles  distant  from  his  home. 
At  eleven  o'clock  he  had  progressed  but  eight 
miles  on  his  way.  Under  a  horse-shed  he  tried 
to  compose  his  mind,  but  in  vain  ;  he  found  him- 
self wholly  incapable  of  attending  to  any  world- 
ly business.  He  endeavored  to  rid  himself  of 
such  uncomfortable  reflections  as  crowded  upon 
liis  mind,  with  a  force  which  he  was  unable  to  re- 
sist. For  several  hours,  he  felt  like  the  guilty 
murderer  flying  from  justice.  At  length,  he  per- 
ceived that  his  opposition  to  God  had  manifested 
itself  by  the  indulgence  of  ill  will  towards  his 
affectionate  wife.  He  resolved  at  once  to  return 
home,  and  ingenuously  confess  to  her,  and  ask 
her  forgiveness.  On  doing  so,  the  scales  of  un- 
belief fell  from  his  eyes,  and  tears  of  gratitude 
and  penitence  flowed  in  abundance. 

Mr.  B.  immediately  resolved  on  a  religious 
life,  which  he  determined  to  commence  by  rear- 
ing a  family  altar.     But  he   had  a  stammering 


THE  CONVERTED  HUSBAND.        129 

tongue  ;  and  so  slow  was  his  speech,  that  he 
trembled,  lest,  in  his  attempt  to  honor  God,  he 
niiglit  expose  himself  to  the  ridicule  of  his 
|Tiown  up  sons,  and  other  adult  mefubers  of  his 
family.  He  hesitated  and  dehiyed.  His  busi- 
ness at  M.  yet  unaccomplished,  was  really  press- 
in(Tj  and  demanded  immediate  attention.  He 
retired  to  iiis  closet  to  ask  the  Lord  to  assist  him 
in  the  duty  of  fannly  prayer,  on  the  following 
Friday.  But  his  mouth  was  shut.  How  could 
he  ask  the  Lord  to  assist  him  to  a  duty  on  Fri- 
day, which  he  might  not  live  to  perform  then, 
and  which  was  manifestly  an  immediate  duty? 
He  saw  the  inconsistency  of  such  a  petition. 
He  rose  from  his  knees,  went  in  pursuit  of  Mrs. 
B.,  and  related  to  lier  the  exercises  of  his  mind. 
He  then  told  her,  that  if  she  would  bring  out  the 
little  stand,  and  the  great  Bible,  and  would  as- 
semble the  family,  he  would  try  to  perform  the 
duty  of  family  worship,  let  the  sacrifice  of  feel- 
ing be  what  it  might.  Mrs.  B.'s  emotions  of 
gratitude  and  joy  were  indescribable.  She  has- 
tened to  execute  this  glad  commission. 

As  this  father  bowed  himself  with  solemn  awe, 
before  tlie  Majesty  of  heaven  and  earth,  a  breath- 
less silence  pervaded  the  youthful  spectators  of 
this  affecting  scene,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
their  life,  they  realized  a  present  God.  The  Spir- 
it of  the  Lord  came  down  and. rested  upon  their 
hearts,  the  effect  of  whose  operations  was  like 
that  of  the  refiner's  fire,  and  of  fuller's  soap. 
Who  can  measure  the  extent  of  that  change, 
which,  within  a  few  days,  had  been  wrought  in 
a  family  whose  hearts  had  so  long  been  wedded 
to  their  idols?     The  tongue  of  the  stammerer, 


130  REMARKABLE    PROVIDENCE. 

now  unfettered,  was  employed  in  anthems  of 
praise  for  redeeminu  love  and  mercy  ;  and  the  ex- 
clamation rose  involuntary  to  the  lips  of  every 
beholder,  "What  hath  God  wrought!" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.  were  now,  with  one  henrt,  as 
sedulously  and  as  perseveringly  engaged  in  their 
efforts  for  the  salvation  of  their  whole  family,  as 
tliey  had  formerly  been  to  secure  for  them  a  por- 
tion in  the  perishable  things  of  time;  and  their 
efforts  were  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord. 

On  learning  the  subs  quent  history  of  this 
family,  who  will  not  rejoice  in  view  of  the  time- 
ly decision  of  Mrs.  B.  ?  Both  parents  and  all  the 
children  except  two,  have  in  rapid  succession, 
paid  the  debt  of  nature,  leaving  behind  them  sat- 
isfactory evidence  that  they  had  experienced  the 
grace  of  God,  which  bringeth  salvation,  in  an- 
swer to  the  prayers  of  a  decided  Christian 
mother. 


REMARKABLE  PROVIDENCE. 

The  following  narrative  is  given  on  the  au- 
thority of  a  corres|)ondent  of  the  Brunswick  Bap- 
tist Herald,  who  vouches  for  the  truth  of  it 
"  having  received  it  from  the  parties  concerned." 

The  family  of  a  pious  woman  was  reduced  by 
poverty  almost  to  a  state  of  starvation.  Her  hus- 
band had  been  for  some  time  confined  to  his  bed 
by  sickness,  and  she,  having  her  time  taken  up 
by  attention  to  him,  had  been  unable  to  provide 
for  herself  and  children.     One  evening,  when 


REMARKABLE    PROVIDENCE.  1.31 

they  had  ate  their  last  morsel,  not  even  so  much 
as  a  potatoe  being  left  for  the  next  meal,  the 
good  woman,  borne  down  with  fatigue  and  sor- 
row, knelt  in  tlie  presence  of  her  little  chil- 
dren, and  laid  her  case  before  the  Lord.  While 
praying,  she  felt  an  unusual  degree  of  confi- 
dence in  Hirn,  who  alone  knew  her  distress. 
This  produced  a  calm  and  peaceful  frame  of 
mind,  and  in  this  state,  s\u%  and  the  rest  of  her 
family,  retired  to  rest.  At  a  late  hour  in  the 
night,  a  person  knocked  at  the  door,  and  asked 
if  they  were  in  bed  ?  The  woman  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  and  desired  to  know  who  was  at 
the  door?  On  b;'ing  tohi  "a  friend,"  she  arose 
and  went  to  the  door,  where,  to  her  surprise,  she 
was  presented  with  nearly  a  week's  provisions, 
for  herself  and  family.  The  person  left  her 
without  giving  her  a  reason  for  his  appearance 
at  so  late  an  hour,  and  only  requested  that  she 
would  say  nothing  about  the  matter.  She  was 
the  more  astonished,  as  it  came  from  a  source 
the  least  expected.  Her  gratitude  can  be  more 
easily  conceived  than  expressed.  God  grant  that 
this  remarkable  providence  may  be  a  blessing  to  all 
such  as  are  in  want,  and  that  they  may  receive 
grace  to  trust  in  him,  who  is  not  unmindful  even 
of  the  lily  of  the  field,  and  without  whose  notice 
not  a  sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground. 


(   132  ) 


THE  BEREAVED  MOTHER. 

**  A  mother's  sorrow  cannot  be  conceived  but  by  a 
mother." — Hannah  More. 


I  MARKED  a  mother  at  the  tomb  of  her  son. 
Her  sable  garment  coincided  with  the  deep 
gloom  that  hung  heavily  around  her  heart.  Her 
declining  head,  her  closed  clasped  hands,  her 
fixed  position,  her  tear-bedewed  cheek,  bespoke 
the  intensity  of  her  thoughts,  and  the  sorrow  of 
her  soul.  The  scene  struck  the  strings  of  sym- 
pathy, and  a  correspondent  tear,  flowing  from  the 
impulse  of  a  similar  feeling,  trickled  down  my 
cheek. — Fancy  lent  her  creative  power  to  my 
mind,  and  methought  I  heard  and  felt  the  grief- 
inspired  soliloquy  of  the  heart-broken  mother, 
as  she  revolved  in  her  depressed  mind  the  follow- 
ing thoughts:  "Ah!  yes,  n)y  child,  thou  art 
numbered  with  the  dead! — The  curtain  of  my 
hopes  has  suddenly  dropped,  and  the  thick  cloud 
of  soul-rending  despondency  shuts  the  lis^ht  of 
joy  and  tranquillity  from  my  mind.  When  feeble 
infancy,  was  thine,  with  what  rapture  I  watched 
the  pleasurable  smile  playing  on  thy  health-flush- 
ed cheek  :  it  was  then  my  heart  bounded  with 
ecstacy,  and  antedated  the  joys  of  youth  and  the 
happiness  of  manhood.  I  thought  thou  wouldst 
have  been  the  pillar  of  my  old  age  :  I  thought  thou 
wouldst  have  supported  my  tottering  declining  life, 
when  theextinguished  hand  of  time  had  quenched 
the  fervor  of  vitality.  But  ah !  these  love-built  hopes 
are  gone  forever;  they  are  buried  in  the  humid 
earth  with  thee.     No  more  I  hear  thy  voice — no 


PARENTAL    FALSEHOODS.  133 

more  I  mark  thy  sprightly  eye ;  thy  voice  is  as 
silent  as  the  grave,  and  thine  eye  fixed  by  the 
rigid  power  of  death.  Scarce  more  than  eigh- 
teen years  had  rolled  around  thy  head  before  the 
"  grim  monster  "  came  and  snatched  ihee  from  the 
world.  Thou  wert  stricken  as  the  tender  sap- 
ling scathed  by  ihe  lightning's  fiery  bolt.  O 
Death!  thou  art  the  destroyer  of  a  mother's 
bliss.     But  still,  amid  all  my  sorrow,  I  will  say, 

''  Worms  may  banquet  on  that  frame, 
And  ruin  fefd  on  what  was  fair  : 
Back  to  the  skies  from  whence  it  came 
The  soul  recalled  shall  flourish  there." 

With  these  words  she  ended,  and  taking  her 
little  daughter  by  the  hand,  she  slowly  retired. 


PARENTAL  FALSEHOODS. 

There  is  one  class  of  lies — tJiose  told  bi/ parents 
to  their  children,  which  it  is  believed  often  lays 
the  foundation  of  a  habit  of  falsehood  in  after 
life.  In  childhood,  permanent  impressions  are 
wont  to  be  made;  and  a  love  for  truth  may  as 
well  be  cherished  and  fixed  at  this  forming  peri- 
od, as  a  love  of  falsehood.  It  is  then,  probably, 
that  what  is  called  the  natural  propensity  of  a 
child  is  unfolded.  Many  persons  who  have  a 
great  abhorrence  of  lying,  and  whip  their  chil- 
dren, if  they  detect  them  in  it,  yet  make  no  scruple 
of  telling  and  acting  to  them  the  most  atrocious 
12 


134  PARENTAL    FALSEHOODS, 

falsehoods.  There  are  few  parents  who  do  not 
do  this  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  though  doubt- 
less without  dreaming  they  are  guilty  of  criminal 
deception.  With  many  the  whole  business  of 
managing  their  children  is  a  piece  of  mere  artifice 
and  trick.  They  are  cheated  in  their  amuse- 
njents,  cheated  in  their  food,  cheated  in  their 
dress.  Lies  are  told  them  to  get  them  to  do 
anything  which  is  disagreeable.  If  a  child  is  to 
take  physic,  the  mother  tells  him  she  has  some- 
thing good  for  him  to  drink  ;  if  obstinate,  she 
says  she  wdl  send  for  the  doctor  to  cut  off  his 
ears,  or  pull  his  teeth,  or  that  she  will  go  away 
and  leave  him,  and  a  thousand  things  of  the 
same  kind,  each  of  which  may  deceive  once  and 
answer  the  present  purpose,  but  will  invariably 
fail  afterwards. 

Parents  are  too  apt  to  endeavor  to  pacify  their 
children  by  making  promises,  which  they  never 
intend  to  perform.  If  they  wish,  for  instance,  to 
take  away  some  eatable  which  they  fear  will  be 
injurious,  they  reconcile  them  by  the  promise  of 
a  ride,  or  walk,  or  something  else,  which  will 
please  them,  but  without  any  intention  of  grati- 
fying them.  This  is  lying,  downright  lyin^. 
People  tliink  nothing  of  breaking  their  promises 
to  children,  if  the  performance  be  not  perfectly 
convenient.  But  they  are  the  last  persons  to 
whom  promises  should  be  broken,  because  they 
cannot  comprehend  the  renson,  if  there  be  one, 
why  they  are  not  kept.  Such  promises  should 
be  scrupulously  reedemed,  though  at  a  great  in- 
convenience, and  even  when  inadvertently  made^ 
For  the  child's  moral  habit  is  of  infinitely  more 
consequence  than  any  such  inconvenience  can 
be  to  a  parent. 


A    TEMPTATION.  135 

We  have  only  noticed  a  few  cases  of  lying  to 
children,  hut  enough  to  illuetrate  the  frequency 
of  it.  And  yet  after  having  pursued  such  a 
course  of  deception  for  the  two  or  three  first 
years  of  life,  if  the  parent  then  finds  his  child  is 
trying  to  deceive  him,  and  will  tell  a  downright 
lie,  he  wonders  how  he  should  have  learned  to 
do  so,  for  he  has  always  taught  him  to  speak  the 
truth  ;  without  reflecting  that  he  has  been  lying 
to  him  from  his  very  birth.  So  he  attributes  that 
habit  to  an  innate  disposition  and  tendency  for 
falsehood,  which  he  has  himself  been  fostering 
and  nourishing  from  the  first.  Children  soon 
learn  to  know  when  they  are  deceived,  and  learn 
to  deceive  others.  They  are  not  deceived  many 
times  in  the  same  way  ;  and  the  most  comforta- 
ble method  in  the  end,  as  well  as  the  most  con- 
formable method  to  the  principles  of  morality 
and  religion  is,  never  to  deviate  in  the  slightest 
degree  from  the  strict  truth,  in  our  intercourse 
with  them. 


A  TEMPTATION. 

I  HAD  the  pleasure,  a  short  time  since,  of  pass- 
ing a  few  days  with  a  friend  of  my  earlier  years, 
whom,  for  a  long  time,  I  had  not  seen.  In  the 
interval,  he  had  become  settled,  and  had  now  a 
family  of  six  fine  children  growing  up  around 
him.  The  eldest  was  a  daughter,  who  might  be 
fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of  age  ;  the  youngest,  a 
son,  about  four. 


136  A    TEMPTATION. 

My  friend  and  liis  wife  were  both  professors  of 
religion,  and  appeared  desirous,  so  far  as  I  could 
judge,  of  exemplifying  in  their  lives  tlie  spirit  of 
the  Gospel,  and  especially  of  bringing  up  their 
children,  "  in  the  fear,  nurture  and  admonition 
of  fhe  Lord." 

The  day  following  my  arrival  was  the  Sabbath. 
Tts  morning  was  appropriately  spent  in  reading 
the  scriptures,  in  family  prayer,  and  religious 
conversation.  Not  long  afier  breakfast,  the 
youngest  child,  the  liitle  boy  above  mentioned, 
was  suddenly  found  to  l)e  missing.  Inquiry  was 
made  for  him,  but,  as  it  proved,  unsuccessful;  a 
degree  of  solicitude,  at  length,  began  to  be  felt, 
and  the  search  became  more  vigorous.  He  had 
on  seveial  occasions  .strolled  away  to  the  neigh- 
bor's, where  a  child  of  his  own  age  lived,  and 
more  frequently  had  gone  unattended,  to  pay  his 
aged  grandmother  a  visit,  who  lived  at  no  great 
distance  down  the  hill.  To  one  of  these  places, 
it  soon  occurred,  that  he  might  liave  wandered, 
though  it  was  unusual  for  him  thus  to  play  tru- 
ant on  the  Sabbath.  The  father,  taking  his  hat, 
said  he  would  step  abroad,  and  fetch  him  home. 

Before  th(;  father's  return,  howe'.er,  the  little 
absentee  was  found.  He  had  purlt)ined  an  or- 
ange, belonging  to  his  eldest  sister;  and,  con- 
scious of  the  trespass  he  was  committing,  had 
secreted  himself  quite  securely  in  an  adjoining 
room  behind  a  bed.  He  had  heard  the  call  of 
his  mother,  and  the  inquiries  of  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  family;  but,  either  from  a  sense  of 
guilt,  or  too  much  engrossed  with  the  pleasure 
of  his  luscious  feast,  he  paid  no  attention  to  the 
oft-repeated  summons.     At  length,  a  little  sister, 


A    TEMPTATION.  137 

a  couple  of  years  older  than  himself,  raising  the 
vase  tnade  the  important  discovery.  It  was  im- 
mediately announced  by  her  shrill  tones,  and  de- 
lighted exclamation  ;  and  almost  in  the  next  mo- 
ment the  wiiole  group  of  children  were  peeping 
under  the  vase,  which  the  discoverer  still  held 
raised.  There,  cross-legged,  sat  the  thief  at  his 
meal.  For  a  moment,  he  paused,  as  was  natur- 
al, and  joined  in  the  good-natured  titter  of  the 
well-pleased  throng.  But  it  was  only  for  a  mo- 
ment that  he  consented  to  any  interruption  ;  but 
now  ate  the  faster,  evidently  wishing  to  prolong 
the  pleasurable  feast  he  was  now  enjoying,  and 
yet  conscious  that  its  approaching  termination 
was  at  hand. 

*'  Ah  !  you  rogue — you  rogue,"  exclaimed  one 
of  his  sisters. 

**  Whose  orange  have  you  got?"  inquired  a 
second. 

**  He  looks  cunning  enough,"  said  the  little 
sister,  who  had  discovered  him. — **  Why  John!  " 

At  this  moment,  the  mother,  who  had  been  in 
search  of  her  boy  in  a  different  direction  enter- 
ed the  room.  Being  quite  at  home  in  my  friend's 
house,  and  attracted  by  the  interesting  scene 
going  on,  I  ventured  to  look  in  upon  the  actors 
myself 

*•'  See  here,  mother,  see  here  " — exclaimed  the 
above  little  girl,  "  we've  found  him — here  he  is 
under  the  bed  " — again  drawing  aside  the  vase. 

The  mother  stooped  as  was  necessary  to  see 
him;  and,  hastily  stepping  forward,  I  imitated 
her  example.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  sight. 
He  was  a  fat  little  figure,  with  a  fine  plump  face, 
and  had  quirled  himself  up  in  the  corner,  and 
12* 


138  A    TEMPTATION. 

with  his  orange  in  his  grasp,  looked  much,  I 
could  fancy,  like  a  young  squirrel  in  the  woods. 
He  had  nearly  eaten  up  the  "  golden  apple  " — 
but  the  liquid  juice  of  the  remnant,  under  the 
pressure  of  his  hands  and  his  lips,  was  running 
in  currents  on  each  side  of  his  mouth. 

"Don't  he  look  cunning,  mother  ?"  said  the 
delighted  little  sister—"  I'm  sure  he  does." 

It  was  impossible  to  repress  a  smile,  as  he 
crept  forth  from  his  hiding-place,  at  the  bidding 
of  his  mother;  who  now  took  his  hand  and  led 
him  into  the-sitting  room. 

Thinks  I  to  myself  here  is  a  difficult  case  to 
manage.  Some  of  "  sterner  stuff"  may  think 
otherwise;  but  in  my  own  mind  it  required  no 
little  decision  and  parental  faithfulness  to  treat 
it  as  it  deserved.  There  was  a  cunning  about 
the  whole  transaction,  especially  in  his  looks  and 
actions  when  discovered,  which  was  calculated 
to  disarm  a  fond  parent.  Many  a  parent,  I 
doubt  not,  would  have  accorded  with  the  expres- 
sion of  John's  little  sister,  and  felt  that  it  was 
*'  too  cunning  a  trick"  to  admit  of  being  cen- 
sured. A  gentle  reproof — "  You  are  a  naughty 
child" — or  "You  must  not  do  so  again" — 
would,  perhaps,  by  most  parents,  have  been 
deemed  sufficient.  And  this  kind  of  reproof 
would  have  been  accompanied  by  a  half-suppiess- 
ed  smile — a  kind  of  mingled  expression  of  ad- 
miration and  reproach ;  but  the  admiration  so 
predominating  as  to  have  entirely  neutralized 
the  censure,  and  virtually  to  have  operated  as  a. 
stimulus  to  future  transgression. 

But  it  was  not  so  managed  in  the  present  in- 


A    TEMPTATION.  139 

Stance.  On  reaching  the  sitting-room,  she  bid 
the  cliildren  be  seated,  and  began  to  inquire — 

"John,  my  son,  was  that  your  orange  which 
j'ou  was  ealiiig  ?  " 

"No  ma'am,"  said  John. 

"Whose  was  it?" 

'' Caroline's." 

*'  And  did  Caroline  give  it  to  you  ?  " 

He  hesitated,  and  tlie  question  was  repeated — 

*'  Did  Caroline  give  you  the  orange,  my  son  ?" 

"  No  ma'am." 

"  And  how  came  you  to  take  it  1 " 

"  I  wanted  it,  ma'am." 

"  But  you  had  no  right  to  it.  It  was  not  yours. 
Had  Caroline  taken  your  orange  would  you  have 
thought  it  ris[ht  ?  You  are  quite  a  small  boy, 
but  you  have  done  wrong  ;  and  now  tell  me,  my 
son,  do  you  not  feel  that  you  have  done  wrong  ?  " 

"  Yes  ma'am,  "  said  he — now  hanging  his 
head,  and  beginning  to  twist  his  little  fingers  ia 
his  mouth. 

"  Yes,  my  child,  you  did  very  wrong.  The 
Bible  says,  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal ;  "  and  it  bids 
us  to  "  Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  and  keep  it 
holy,"  but  you  have  not  done  so  ;  you  have  of- 
fended God,  and  you  have  displeased  me,  and 
you  have  set  a  bad  example.  And,  besides,  you 
knew  that  you  was  doing  wrong  ;  you  felt  guilty ; 
you  hid  yourself  behind  the  bed,  and  when  I  call- 
ed you,  you  did  not  come;  and  here  again  you 
broke  another  command,  which  says,  "  Children, 
obey  your  parents."  Your  little  sister  thought 
you  looked  cunning;  but  I  hope  that  little  sister 
will  never  think  so  again.  You  tried  by  your 
ilooks  and  actions  to  smooth  over  the  bad  deed ; 


140  A    TEMPTATION. 

— Ah!  you  have  done  very  wrong.  Your  father 
will  be  home  soon,  and  1  must  tell  him.  I  am 
sure  he  will  be  displeased  ;  but  what  he  will 
think  best  to  be  done,  I  cannot  say." 

I  had  remained  in  the  room  thus  long,  and 
had  attended  with  great  satisfaction  to  the  ap- 
propriate manner  in  which  this  faithful  mother 
Iiad  treated  a  delicate  case.  But  thinking  it  no 
longer  courteous  to  stay,  especially  as  the  father 
was  now  at  hand,  and  might  wish  to  be  alone 
with  his  family,  I  retired  to  my  chamber.  As  to 
the  subsequent  discipline  I  was  not  informed  j 
but,  from  the  specimen  of  maternal  faithfulness, 
which  I  had  witnessed,  and  the  reference  of  the 
matter  to  the  father,  1  could  not  doubt  but  that 
the  occasion  was  seized  to  administer  appropri- 
ate discipline  and  advice. 

On  reaching  my  chamber,  I  could  not  but  re- 
flect upon  the  numerous  similar  occurrences  in 
almost  every  family,  and  upon  the  importance  of 
parental  faithfulness  in  relation  to  them.  They 
indeed  often  appear  quite  trivial ;  and  connect- 
ed as  they  not  unfrequently  are  with  a  kind  of 
cunning,  bespeaking  more  than  common  capaci- 
ty in  the  child,  are  wont  to  be  passed  by,  not 
only  without  censure,  but  even  with  applause. 
Yet,  when  more  minutely  examined,  instead  of 
appearing  to  be  trifles,  they  will  wear  the  aspect 
of  serious  evils.  We  are  apt  to  be  amused  with 
show.  We  forget  that  the  noxious  weed  may 
send  forth  a  beautiful  flower  ;  that  behind  the 
most  attracting  exterior  may  lurk  the  darkest  de- 
signs. So  behind  the  curtain  of  these  pretty  in- 
fantile tricks,  may  lie  the  germ  of  all  future  dis- 
obedience. 


A    TEMPTATION.  141 

They  may  be  the  prelude  to  a  wide  departure 
from  the  path  of  trutli  and  duty — the  first  over- 
flowincrs  of  a  fountain,  wiiich  will  ultimately 
send  forth  bitterness  and  death.  Let  it  not  be 
thought,  then,  tliat  these  early  transaressions  are 
small  ntatters.  They  are  an  indication  of  the 
*•  man  of  sin  "  within  :  true,  that  man  may  be 
yet  uncrown,  but  {live  him  exercise — admitjister 
aliment,  and  he  will  attain,  in  process  of  lime, 
to  the  strength  and  daring  of  Goliah  of  Gath. 
The  small  theft  of  an  orange,  imrebuUed  in  a 
child,  may  lead  that  child,  in  maturer  years,  to 
crimes  to  be  expiated  otdy  in  the  solitude  of  a 
prison,  or  the  infamy  and  agony  of  the  gallows. 
It  was  an  humbler  fruit 


-whose  mortal  taste 


Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe. 

P.irents  cannot,  therefore,  be  too  sagacious  in 
marking  the  early  actions  of  their  children,  which 
involve  violations  of  the  principles  of  honesty 
and  uprightness  ;  nor  too  faithful  in  counteract- 
ing the  strong  tendency  to  such  violations,  which 
they  will  ever  perceive  in  their  children.  No 
more  sacred  duty  exists;  no  greater  parental  ob- 
ligation can  be  imposed.  The  faithful  discharge 
of  this  duty  may  be  connected  with  the  eternal 
weal  of  our  children.  Kindly  and  conscien- 
tiously performed,  the  attendant  blessing  of  God 
may  be  anticipated,  with  nearly  the  same  cer- 
tainty, that,  if  wheat  be  sowed,  wheat  will  be 
harvested  ;  but  if  neglected,  tares  only  will  grow 
— vicious  fruit  only  succeed,  unless  a  Providence 
more  kind  than  parental  apathy,  shall  itself  sow 


142  RECOLLECTIONS    OF  A    MOTHER. 

a  better  seed,  and  cultivate  a  neglected  soil.  He 
thai  sows  to  the  flesh — to  the  carnal  mind  of  his 
child — shnll  as  surely  reap  corruption,  in  respect 
to  that  child,  as  he  will  in  respect  to  iiimself.  If 
we  wouhl  reap  everlastintr  life  for  ()ur>elves  and 
our  chihJren,  we  must  sow  unto  the  Sjjirit. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  MOTHER. 

I  WELL  remember  when  about  nine  years  of  age, 
returning  from  school  one  day,  with  a  request  to 
my  mother  that  I  might  attend  a  children's  ball, 
which  was  to  take  place  the  next  evening.  One 
or  two  had  been  held  before,  at  which  most  of 
my  companions  were  present,  but  myself  and  my 
sister,  who  was  still  younger,  had  received  no 
invitation,  as  it  was  well  understood  that  our 
mother  was  *'  very  strict,"  and  probably  would 
not  permit  us  to  attend.  But  on  this  occasion, 
a  note  was  handed  us,  as  we  were  returning  from 
school,  requesting  our  company  for  the  next  eve- 
ning;  and,  as  we  entered  the  parlor  where  our 
mother  was  sitting,  our  little  hearts  swelled  with 
desires,  to  which  they  had,  until  then,  been 
strangers.  We  asked  her  permission  to  attend, 
which  she  gently,  but  firmly,  denied,  giving  us,  at 
the  same  time,  some  of  her  most  important  rea- 
sons for  so  doing.  We  felt  the  propriety  of  her 
objections,  and  in  fact  had  little  inclination  to 
enter  into  an  amusement,  with  which  we  were 
wholly  unacquainted  ;  but  the  dread  of  the  sneer, 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A    MOTHER.  143 

and  ridicule  of  our  companions,  and  their  remarks 
upon  the  unnecessary  strictness  of  our  dear  pa- 
rents, overcame  other  feelings,  and  ue  begged 
tliat  we  might  go,  at  least  once,  in  order  to  show 
them  she  was  moie  indulgent  than  they  supposed. 
1  shall  never  forget  the  tone  of  seriousness  my 
mother  assumed,  as  she  represented  to  us  the  re- 
sponsibility incurred  by  Christian  parents,  in 
giving  up  tlieir  children  to  God.  "  You,  my 
dear  children,"  said  she,  "  are  consecrated  chil- 
dren. Your  parents  have  covenanted  with  God 
to  train  you  up  for  his  service.  How  can  I,  with- 
out a  fearful  violation  of  that  covenant,  permit 
you  to  enter  a  place  where  every  thing  you  see 
and  hear  will  be  calculated  to  divert  your  minds 
from  serious  things.  Would  not  God  be  justly 
angry  with  me,  and  could  I  expect  his  blessing 
in  my  endeavors  to  train  you  up  for  Ilim?  Now 
which  do  you  prefer,  that  I  should  displease  God, 
or  your  companions."  This  was  enough, — we 
were  entirely  satisfied,  and  were  able  to  meet 
our  companions  the  next  day  without  shame  or 
fear  ;  indeed,  shall  1  say  it,  we  felt  a  secret  pride 
in  the  integrity  of  our  dear  mother's  principles. 
Though  afterwards  invited  on  one  or  two  other 
occasions,  we  felt  not  the  slightest  inclination  to 
accept, — the  question  was  settled,  and  settled 
forever;  and  how  often,  since  having  reached  a 
mature  age,  have  we  looked  back  to  that  period 
with  indescribable  interest,  and  with  fervent  grat- 
itude to  our  parent  for  the  firmness  and  wisdom 
she  then  manifested.  How  much  inconvenience 
and  expostulation  did  she  thus  avoid,  and  from 
how  many  temptations  and  conflicts  secure  our 
youthful  years.     Much  of  the  indifference  with 


144  CONVERSION  OF  A  CAPTAIN. 

which  we  have  regarded  amusements  of  this  kind, 
even  since  tlie  formation  of  our  own  principles, 
may  doubtless  be  traced  to  the  impression  thus 
early  made  upon  our  minds.  And  might  not 
every  parent,  by  a  similar  course,  throw  ihe  same 
safeguard  around  the  future  welfaie  of  her  child  ? 
Surely  such  children  will  ever  have  cause  to  bless 
the  name  of  mother  ! 


CONVERSION  OF  A  CAPTAIN. 

The  captain  whose  conversion  is  narrated  be- 
low was    born   in   the   town  of  M ,  and  very 

early  in  life  lost  his  father.  He  was  left  to  the 
watchful  care  of  his  pious  mother.  At  an  early 
age  he  went  to  sea,  and  when  his  affectionate 
mother  packed  up  his  clothes  for  the  first  voyage, 
she  placed  a  bible  in  his  chest,  and  urged  him 
not  only  to  read  it,  but  to  be  governed  by  its 
precepts,  and  to  give  himself  away  to  the  Saviour 
it  revealed.  "  Being  rather  of  a  sober  cast  of 
character,"  said  he,  "  and  steady  in  my  habits^ 
I  was  earlier  than  usual  made  master  of  a  brig, 
and  sent  to  Cadiz.  I  was  there  when  that  tre- 
mendous tempest  destroyed  so  many  vessels  in 
that  bay  ;  when  out  of  two  hundred  and  sixty, 
only  sixteen  escaped,  and  mine  was  one  of  them. 
We  had  lost  our  best  anchor  and  cables,  and 
were  held  by  a  small  kedge  anchor  and  rope. 
We  considered  our  case  almost  hopeless.  About 
midnight,  the  vessel  began  to  drift  towards  the 


CONVERSION    or  A  CAPTAIN.  145 

shore,  when  the  sailors  came  running,  and  cry- 
ing, "We  are  lost;  Captain,  do  pray  for  us.'* 
My  habits  of  sobriety  had  led  the  seamen  to  sup- 
pose that  I  was  a  Christian.  The  cry,  "  We  are 
lost,"  sur)k  deep  into  my  heart,  and  the  inquiry 
immediately  arose  in  my  mind,  if  we  are  lost 
what  will  become  of  me?  And  feeling  that  I 
was  not  a  Chri^tian,  how  could  I  pray  1  But  the 
sailors  had  desired  it,  and  I  could  not  refuse  to 
make  the  attempt.  I  prayed  as  well  as  I  could, 
and  while  I  was  yet  speaking,  the  cry  from  on 
deck  was,  "  She  is  fast."  Our  joy  cannot  be  de- 
scribed. When  morning  light  returned,  we 
found  that  our  small  anchor  had  drifted  until  it 
caught  a  large  anchor,  and  there  it  held  us.  But 
our  astonishment  was  that  so  small  a  rope  should 
not  have  parted.  Is  it  presumption  to  bdieve 
that  this  wonderful  preservation  was  in  answer  to 
the  prayers  of  a  pious  mother,  who  no  doubt 
often  when  the  storm  arose,  prayed  that  God  of 
'*  all  that  are  afar  off  upon  the  sea,"  to  protect 
and  save  her  beloved  son  1 

The  deep  impressions  of  that  awful  night,  and 
the  goodness  of  God  to  us,  never  forsook  me, 
until  I  hope  I  found  pardon  through  the  Re- 
deemer. 

'*  But,"  said  he,  "  this  is  not  all  I  have  to  say 
of  the  goodness  of  God.  1  have  this  day  experi- 
enced such  new  evidences  that  God  is  a  prayer- 
hearing  and  covenant-keeping  God,  as  almost 
overwhelms  me.  A  few  days  since,  I  received 
orders  to  discharge  my  cargo,  and  go  to  New- 
Orleans  for  a  load  of  cotton.  At  this  season  of 
the  year  (July,)  I  thought  it  would  be  at  the  risk 
of  my  life,  and  I  felt  unhappy  about  it.  I  carried 
13 


146  FAMILY   LOVE. 

my  case  to  God,  prayincr  him,  if  it  was  for  the 
best,  to  change  my  destination,  yet  with  a  heart, 
that  I  hope  could  say,  '  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be 
done.'  1  went  on  '  Change  to  see  some  gentlemen; 
and  what  was  my  surprise  and  joy,  when  a  mer- 
chant soon  after  I  arrived  came  to  me  and  said, 
*  I  want  you  to  take  a  cargo  for  me  to  Amster- 
dam.'    The  very  place  I  wished  to  go  to." 

I  then  remarked,  "  I  suppose  you  sometimes 
write  to  your  pious  mother  and  tell  her  of  the 
goodness  of  Gpd  to  you."  "  Yes,"  said  he,  **  and 
to  a  pious  wife  too ;  for  about  the  time  I  hope  I 
became  pious  on   the  sea,  there  was  a  revival   in 

M ,  and  my  wife,  naturally  the  gayest  of  the 

gay,  became,  I  believe,  a  Christian." 

Truly  the  Lord  is  good  and  gracious,  and  his 
tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works. 

Pious  mothers  cease  not  to  pray  for  yonr  sons, 
though  far  away  on  the  sea,  for  your  covenant 
God  is  there.  Be  encouraged,  ye  pious  seamen 
too,  to  call  on  that  God  who  has  said,  "  I  will 
never  leave  you,  nor  forsake  you." 


FAMILY  LOVE. 

RosENEATH  Farm,  near  the  village  of  Gras- 
mere,  was  the  neat  and  simple  residence  of  Rich- 
ard Brown,  a  pious  and  industrious  farmer. 
Early  in  life  he  had  married  Janette  Dale  :  their 
children,  were  John  and  Ellen.  Richard  Brown, 
though  not  a  scholar,  was  a  sincere  christian  : 


FAMILY  LOVE.  147 

he  could  read,  and  did  not  fail  to  search  the 
Scriptures  daily;  moreover,  it  was  his  constant 
endeavor  to  practise  those  duties  wliicli  tliey  in- 
culcate. Atid  here  we  may  observe,  that  much 
learning  is  not  essential  lo  true  piety  :  wiih  a 
teachable  and  humble  spirit,  the  diligent  and  sin- 
cere inquirer  after  truth  may,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  though  in  the  humblest  walks  of  life,  derive 
from  the  volume  of  inspiration  a  wisdom  which 
passeth  the  understanding  of  those,  who  are  wise 
only  in  the  wisdom  of  this  world.  Its  sublime 
truths  are  obvious  and  valuable  to  the  mind  that 
can  perceive  their  suitableness  to  its  wants,  while 
to  the  unhumbled  and  self-satisfied,  they  are  ob- 
scure and  unwelcome. 

We  have  said  Richard  was  a  Christian,  and 
therefore  happy  :  he  had  not  passed  through  life 
without  his  trials,  but  he  considered  them,  as 
they  really  were,  mercies  in  disguise.  Now  his 
dear  Janette,  the  beloved  wife  of  his  youth,  was 
lying  at  the  point  of  death.  "  Farewell,  my  own 
Richard  !  "  she  said  :  "  your  love  has  been  a 
great  blessing  to  me  from  the  hand  of  God  ;  we 
have  lived  happily,  and  I  die  happy,  in  the  as- 
surance that  you  will  guide  our  poor  motherless 
children  in  the  paths  of  peace." 

Richard  wept,  and  some  [qw  tears  glistened  in 
Janette's  eye  ;  yet  smiling  through  those  tears, 
as  she  looked  at  the  neat,  though  homely  fireside, 
around  which  Richard  and  herself,  with  their 
two  children,  had  so  often  sat,  she  continued, 
"  When  1  am  gone,  dear  Richard,  Ellen  will  not 
fail  to  trim  the  fire,  to  place  your  elbow-chair  be- 
side it,  to  milk  the  cow,  prepare  the  morning 
meal,  to  welcome  you   at  noon ;  and  when  you 


148  FAMILY    LOVE. 

return  at  even  from  the  labors  of  the  day,  as  you 
sit  by  our  fire-side,  your  head  must  be  pillowed 
on  her  shoulder."  Here  Janelte's  voice  faltered 
for  a  moment,  and  then  she  proceeded  :  **  Nor  is 
it,  my  beloved  husband,  among  the  least  of  my 
consolations  at  this  trying  moment,  to  think,  that, 
althoucrh  wearied  in  body  after  your  daily  em- 
ployment, you  will  not  fail  to  refresh  your  spirit 
each  night  with  the  sweet  truths  of  that  Word 
which  we  have  so  often  found  the  'joy  and  re- 
joicing of  our  heart;'  and  if  i*  be  the  will  of 
Heaveu  that  you  should  long  survive  the  partner 
of  your  youth,  who  now  weeps  to  leave  you, 
though  she  knows  '  to  die  is  gain,'  if,  like  Jacob, 
your  eyes  should  grow  dim  with  age,  our  dear 
Ellen  will  be  constant  in  reading  to  you  that 
same  precious  Word,  wherein  God  hath  caused 
us  to  hope." — Jannette  fell  back  exhausted,  yet 
Richard  felt  the  convulsive  pressure  of  her  cold 
hand,  which  was  clasped  in  his  :  she  gazed  al- 
ternately at  her  weeping  husband  and  sobbing 
children  ;  then  raised  her  eyes  to  Heaven,  and 
remained  for  some  time  absorbed  in  prayer;  a 
smile  played  around  her  pallid  lips,  as  they  faint- 
ly uttered,  "Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit!" 
That  spirit  quilted  the  lifeless  form  of  Janette, 
and  with  it  bid  an  eternal  adieu  to  sorrow  ! 

Ellen  possessed  an  affectionate  heart,  and  had 
loved  her  excellent  mother  with  all  the  tenderness 
of  which  that  heart  was  capahle;  she  had  now 
lost  her,  and  felt  as  such  a  child  could  only  feel 
for  such  a  mother!  In  principle  and  conduct, 
Ellen  was  much  beyond  her  years;  her  father 
still  lived,  and  therefore  every  selfish  regret  must 
yield  to  the  desire  of  rendering  his  bereft  state 
less  afflictive. 


FAMILY    LOVE.  149 

At  length  the  evening  of  this  sad  day  arrived, 
and  Richard  took  the  large  Bible  from  the  corner 
shelf.  He  was  deeply  affected  as  he  recalled 
poor  Janette's  dying  words ;  nevertheless,  he 
attempted  to  read  the  sacred  page.  "  Dear  fath- 
er, shall  I  read  for  you  1  "  said  Ellen.  *'  Oh, 
no  !  "  he  replied  ;  "  your  mother,  with  her  dying 
breath,  bade  me  read  the  Bible  to  her  children, 
whilst  my  sight  remained  ;  and,  Ellen,  my  eyes 
are  not  dim  with  age."  Here  he  wiped  away 
the  tears,  which  overflowed  them,  and  then, 
turning  to  the  eleventh  chapter  of  John's  Gospel, 
read  aloud.  When  the  chapter  was  finished, 
Richard  observed,  "  Now,  my  children,  our 
blessed  Saviour  says  here,  in  the  twenty-fifth  and 
twenty-sixth  verses,  *  I  am  the  resurrection  and 
the  life  :  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live  ;  and  whosoever  liveth  and 
believeth  in  me,  shall  never  die.'  Your  dear 
mother,  whom  we  laid  in  the  grave  this  day,  was 
a  believer  ;  and  although  it  shall  not  be  our  priv- 
ilege to  see  her  raised  from  the  dead  like  Laza- 
rus, yet  she  is  far  happier  than  if  we  could  recal 
her  spirit  to  earth  ;  for  she  is  gone  to  dwell  for- 
ever with  that  Saviour,  who  said  to  Martha,  '  I 
am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  !  Blessed,  in- 
deed, are  those  who  die  in  the  Lord  ;  and  let  us, 
my  children,  pray  that  we  may  so  live,  following 
the  steps  of  our  Redeemer,  that,  when  we  die, 
He  may  receive  us  to  glory."  The  prayer  was 
simple  and  affecting ;  it  flowed  from  a  heart 
deeply  sorrowing  under  its  bereavement,  yet  sus- 
tained by  a  firm  reliance  upon  Him  **  who  cau- 
seth  all  things  to  work  together  for  good  to  them 
that  love  Him." 
13* 


(  150  ; 


THE  MOTHER. 

Her  babe  was  ever  sickly,  and  its  cheek 

Wore  not  the  hue  of  health.     Its  little  bosom 

Just  heav'd  with  its  faint  breaih,  and  ever  often 

A  sob  escap'd  its  heart,  and  a  big  tear 

Came  rushing  to  its  eye.     Its  bloodless  lip 

Seem'd  not  the  prey  of  fell  disease,  but  death 

Came  calmly  o'er  its  frame,  like  a  thin  mist 

Over  a  lake  at  even,  or  a  melting 

Of  distant  music  on  the  silent  sea. — 

The  mother  vvatch'd  her  infant,  as  it  pined 

And  sicken'd  on  her  bosom  ;  and  she  hush"d 

Its  low  and  plaintive  murm'rings, — and  at  night 

When  all  around  was  sleeping,  and  the  air 

In  its  unechoing  silence  gave  no  sound, 

She  sat  with  heavy  eyelids  by  her  child, 

And  hush'd  her  very  breath,  lest  it  should  wake 

And  find  its  grief  again.     Night  after  night 

She  thus  did  keep  her  vigils  ;  and  when  day 

Rose  on  her  weaned  senses,  and  she  fain 

Would  lay  her  down  to  rest,  the  weak  complaining 

Of  her  awaken'd  babe  o'ercame  her  weariness; 

And  she  refus'd  to  listen  to  the  voice 

Of  those  who  read  consumption  in  the  flush 

Tiiat  deepen'd  on  her  cheek; — and  only  once 

While  her  sick  babe  was  sleeping,  did  she  walk 

Abroad  in  the  cool  air  ;  and  then  I  met  her 

By  the  lone  grave  of  him  who  in  his  life 

Had  lov'd  full  tenderly  that  babe  and  her. 

She  knew  her  child  would  die  :   but  she  had  tho't 

That  she  would  watch  its  sufferings,  and  stand  by 

To  do  that  office  which  affection  loves, 

And  yet  doth  weep  to  do, — of  closing  up 

The  cold  and  stiffen'd  lid, — and  she  had  hop'd 

That  when  its  pulse  was  still,  and  its  young  heart 

Was  silent  in  its  bosom,  that  her  hands 

Would  shroud  its  limbs  for  burial,  and  her  lips 

Press  the  last  kiss  upon  its  clay -cold  cheek 

Before  the  foul  worm's  riot. — But  she  sunk 

Beneath  her  ceaseless  watching,  and  consumption 


THE    MOTHER.  151 

Quicken'd  his  fearful  work.     Her  pulse  pfrew  quick, 
And  her  limbs  faint,  and  restless  fever  fillowed, 
With  his  consuming  thirst,  and  wild  delirium 
Seiz  d  on  her  heated  brain — and  she  would  clasp 
Her  pillow  in  her  frenzy,  and  cry  "  Hush, 
Sleep  on  iny  babe — would  that  thy  mother's  heart 
Could  bear  thy  pain  for  thee — sl^epon,  sleep  on," — 
And  when  at  times  she  wept,  and  the  cool  tears 
Came  down  in  IVeshness  on  her  bosom,  reason 
Would  for  a  moment  gleam — and  then  she  knew 
That  she  had  not  her  babe,  and  slie  remember'd 
That  it  was  sick  and  wasting — and  a  sorrow, 
Such  as  a  mother's  heart  alone  can  feel, 
Sat  heavily  upon  her. 

'Twas  the  hour 
Ofmidnigiit — and  the  heavy  air  lay  slumb'ring 
As  if  in  a  deep  trance  ;  and  the  green  leaves 
Forgot  t^'.eir  undulations — and  pressed  down 
By  the  night  falling  dew,  seem'd  overpowered 
Bv  a  resitlless  sleep.     The  walch-dog's  bark 
Was  heard  not  in  the  distance,  all  except 
At  hourly  intervals,  when  the  chiding  clock 
Rung  out  the  passing  hour,  one  sullen  howl 
Broke  in  upon  its  echoes,  and  again 
Unbroken  silence  reigned.     The  weary  nurse 
Had  kept  her  drowsy  watch,  and  the  sick  mother 
Lay  still  upon  her  pillow,  singing  fitfully 
A  low  and  soothing  lullaby  ;  and  when 
Her  voice  grew  famt,  and  her  parch'd  tongue  refus'd 
To  do  Its  oiSce  more,  she  smil'd  and  said, 
"  'Tis  well,  my  wailing  babe,  thy  mother's  voice 
Grows  weak  in  lulling  thee,  and  her  fond  heart 
Which  liv'd  not,  but  to  quell  thy  infant  tears 
And  soothe  thy  grief  awhile,  is  fading  with  thee — 
And  so  'tis  well  :  and  I  will  only  wait 
To  see  thee  plume  thy  wing,  and  then  my  life 
Which  flow'd  from  thee  its  fountain,  will  dry  up, 
And  1  shall  follow  soon."     She  would  have  spoken 
Ot  him  who  gave  that  infant  child  its  being  ; 
But  e'er  the  accent  fell,  she  turned  her  head 
Aside  upon  her  pillow,  and  a  gush. 
As  if  her  "  head  were  waters,"  and  her  heart 
Had  loosen'd  every  I'eeling  in  the  flow, — 
Came  out  to  tell  that  thought's  full  bitternesB. 


152  THE    MOTHER. 

Freely,  and  long  she  wept ;  and  all  who  sorro«r 
Can  tell  the  soothing  influence  of  such  tears. 
They  had  not  dried  before  her  moistened  lashes 
Had  fallen  like  a  veil  and  she  was  sleeping, 
As  if  she  had  not  wept.     She  woke  serene 
And  calm  as  in  the  hour  of  health  :  her  cheek 
Had  lost  its  fever'd  flush,  and  in  its  stead 
A  snowy  paleness  overspread  her  features, 
And  she  looked  soon  to  die. —  It  was  the  calm 
Which  oft  precedes  departure,  and  which  quells 
The  native  speaking  lustre  of  the  eye, 
And  gives  it  an  intense  and  still  expression, 
As  if  the  soul  was  wrapt  with  the  far  glance 
Of  the  half-veiled  eternity.     Slie  spoke, 
And  ask'd  to  see  her  babe.     It  had  been  sleeping 
Quietly  upon  its  nurse's  bosom,  thoi  gh  so  still. 
She  knew  not  but  its  spirit  was  in  heaven. 
They  brought  it  to  her,  and  she  gently  kissed 
Its  thin  and  wasted  lip,  and  ask'd  them  then 
To  lay  it  on  her  bosom,  and  to  wind 
Her  nerveless  arm  around  it,  that  her  eye 
Might  rest  upon  it  in  her  agony. 

She  died — and  they  who  stood  around,  approach'd 

To  take  her  infant  from  her  cold  embrace, 

Fearful  that  it  might  wake  it  from  its  sleep. 

But  it  could  wake  no  more. — They  moved  it  not — 

Only  to  place  it  closer  to  her  bosom. 

And  wrap  them  in  the  vestments  of  the  grave. 


(   153  ) 


THE  NEW  DRESS. 

As  I  was  lately  sitting  in  the  nursery  of  an 
old  acquaintance,  she  exhibited  to  me  a  dress 
just  completed  for  her  little  daughter.  Alter  1 
had  duly  admired  it.  the  mother  turned  and  dis- 
played it  to  her  child,  exclaiming  "  Ann's  new 
dress  !  Little  Ann's  jirefty  new  dress!"  while 
the  little  creature  clapping  her  hands,  testified 
her  admiration  of  gay  colors,  if  not  the  joy  of 
her  sex,  in  the  prospect  of  becoming  the  pos- 
sessor of  such  a  prize,  as  a  gay  dress.  I,  too, 
participated  in  the  pleasure  afforded  by  the  ani- 
mation of  the  little  one  ;  but  as  I  turned  my 
steps  toward  my  own  quiet,  and  perhaps,  at 
times,  lonely  home,  (for  I  have  no  daughters  to 
enliven  my  fireside)  I  fell  into  the  following 
train  of  thought  : 

The  incident,  which  I  have  this  day  witness- 
ed, may  exert  an  influence  upon  the  character 
of  this  child,  through  time, — perhaps  through 
eternity.  She  will  soon  understand  the  lan- 
guage of  ihe  lips,  although  she  now  only  compre- 
hended that  of  the  features;  and  from  both  will 
she  learn,  that  to  her  mother  her  dress  is  impor- 
tant. She  will  be  arrayed  in  the  new  dress  to 
visit  grandmother,  and  the  pride  of  displaying 
it,  will  super^e(le  the  gratification  which  arises 
from  the  indulgence  of  the  affections  of  the  heart. 
Wlien  her  mother  has  visitors,  slie  will  he  told 
to  be  very  good,  as  she  is  to  wear  her  new  dress 
to  see  the  ladies,  thus  making  propriety  of  de- 
portment, simply  an  appendage  to  dress ;  and 
connecting  for  life  the  idea  of  displaying  herself, 


154  THE    NEW    DRESS. 

with  the  gratification  of  seeing  her  friends.  The 
new  dress  will  be  prepared  for  the  Sabbath,  and 
the  child  will  feel,  that  to  display  it,  is  the  pri- 
mary object  for  which  she  is  taken  to  the  liouse 
of  God  :  and  even  upon  her  first  entrance  within 
the  sanctuary,  she  may  be  taught  a  lesson  of 
pride  and  vanity,  rather  than  of  humility  and 
reverence.  Children  are  apt  scholars  in  the 
school  of  vanity,  and  this  child  may  soon  become 
as  vain,  as  heartless,  as  fond  of  display,  as  the 
most  sanguine  mother  could  wish,  were  it  her 
only  object  to  infuse  pride,  vanity,  and  the  love 
of  show  into  the  heart  of  her  child. 

But  although  such  may  be  the  eflfect  of  my 
friend's  mode  of  education,  such  has  not  been  her 
design;  and  when  the  long-cherished  vanity  of 
the  daughter  becomes  too  glaring,  and  visibly 
oversteps  the  rules  of  propriety  and  good-breed- 
ing, I  do  not  doubt  the  mother  will  be  both  sur- 
prised and  grieved.  She  will  wonder  that  one 
so  young  should  attach  so  much  importance  to 
personal  appearance,  should  think  so  much  of 
dress  ;  that  a  child  so  religiously  educated  should 
be  so  trifling  on  the  Sabbath,  so  heartless  in  the 
sanctuary,  so  occupied  in  noticing  the  dress  of 
others,  so  eager  to  display  her  own.  She  will 
feel  it  necessary  solemnly  to  reprove  her.  She 
will  say, — "  Your  personal  appearance  is  of  no 
consequence,  your  Creator  looks  at  the  heart, 
and  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  render  the  homage 
of  the  heart,  while  all  your  feelings  are  absorbed 
by  your  personal  decoration  ;  such  vanity  de- 
grades you,  both  as  a  rational  and  immortal  be- 
ing, and  let  me  see  no  more  of  it." 


PRAY    WITHOUT    CEASING.  155 

Mothers,  which  will  most  influence  the  heart, 
■ — the  early  habits,  or  the  casual  precept?  which 
lesson  has  this  child  most  thoroughly  learned, 
and  which  will  she  longest  remember  1 


PRAY  WITHOUT  CEASING. 

A  s.-Mi.OR.  who  had  been  long  absent  from  his 
native  country,  returned  home,  flushed  with 
money.  Coming  to  Loudon,  where  he  had  never 
been  before,  he  resolved  to  gratify  himself  with 
the  sight  of  whatever  was  remarkable.  Among 
other  places  lie  visited  St.  Paul's.  It  happened 
to  be  at  the  lime  of  divine  service.  When  care- 
lessly passing,  he  heard  the  words  '*  pray  without 
ceasing,"  uttered  by  the  minister,  without  having 
any  impression  made  on  his  mind  by  them. 
Having  satisfied  his  curiosity  in  London,  he 
returned  to  his  marine  pursuits,  and  continued 
at  sea  for  seven  years,  without  any  remarkable 
occurrence  in  his  history. 

One  fine  evening,  when  the  air  was  soft,  the 
breeze  gentle,  the  heavens  serene,  and  the  ocean 
calm,  he  was  walking  the  deck,  with  his  feelings 
soothed  by  the  pleasing  aspect  of  nature,  when 
on  a  sudden  darted  on  his  mind,  the  words, 
"  Pray  without  ceasing!"  "  Pray  without  ceas- 
ing!" "  What  words  can  these  be?"  he  exclaim- 
ed, "  I  think  [  have  heard  them  before;  where 
could  it  be  ?"  After  a  pause — "  Oh  it  was  at  St. 
Paul's  in  London,  the  minister  read  them  from 


156  CONTERSION    OF    A    SAILOR. 

the  Bible.  What!  and  do  the  Scriptures  say, 
"Pray  without  ceasing?"  Oh  what  a  wretch 
must  I  be,  to  have  lived  so  long  without  praying 
at  all  !"  God,  who  at  first  caused  him  to  hear 
this  passage  in  his  ear,  now  causeil  it  to  spring 
up,  in  a  way,  at  a  time,  and  with  a  power  pecu- 
liarly his  own.  The  poor  fellow  now  found  the 
lightning  of  conviction  flash  on  his  conscience — 
the  thunders  of  the  law  shake  his  heart — and  the 
great  deep  of  destruction  threaten  to  swallow  him 
up.  Now  he  began  for  the  first  time  to  pray  ; 
but  praying  was  not  all!  "Oh,"  said  he  "if  I 
had  a  Bible,  or  some  good  book !"  He  rum- 
maged his  chest,  when  in  a  corner,  he  espied  a 
Bible,  which  his  anxious  mother  had,  twenty 
years  before,  placed  in  his  chest,  but  which,  till 
now,  had  never  been  opened.  He  snatched  it 
up,  put  it  to  his  breast,  then  read  ;  wept ;  prayed  ; 
believed,  and  became  a  new  man. 


CONVERSION  OF  A  SAILOR. 

"  I  "WAS  born,"  says  a  sailor,  when  giving  an 
account  of  his  conversion,  "  of  a  very  pious  moth- 
er, and  was  taught  in  my  youthful  days  to  attend 
the  church  of  which  she  was  a  member,  (a 
Baptist  church.)  However,  as  I  grew  older,  and 
was  determined  to  have  my  own  way,  I  very  sel- 
dom visited  any  church;  but  when  1  did,  it  was 
the  Universalist,  because  there  1  found  nothing 
to  condemn  me,  in  ray  sinful  career. 


CONVERSION    OF    A    SAILOR.  157 

For  the  last  ten  years,  I  have  followed  the 
seas,  and  have  been  a  follower  of  Satan — living 
in  as  debauched  and  sinful  a  manner,  as  any  of 
the  sons  of  Neptune.  Tilteen  months  ago,  the 
twelfth  of  this  tnonth,  I  received  from  my  mother 
a  chest  of  clothing,  and  books,  and  tracts. 

Previous  to  this,  I  had  two  attacks  of  the  brain 
fever;  and  when  I  was  given  over  by  the  physi- 
cians that  attended  me,  even  then  I  iiad  not  the 
fear  of  God  before  my  eyes.  But  Christ,  the 
Mediator  interposed  in  my  behalf,  and  said.  Spare 
him  yet  a  little  longer;  if  he  bringeth  not  forth 
good  fruit,  cut  him  down.  This  was  the  case, 
as  I  now  view  it. 

After  I  received  the  things  above  mentioned, 
I  one  day,  while  in  health,  (having  recovered 
from  my  sickness,)  and  going  on  in  the  road  to 
ruin  as  strong  as  ever,  took  up  the  tract  entitled 
"  Reasons  for  not  embracing  the  doctrines  of 
Universal  Salvation,  in  a  series  of  letters  to  a 
friend." — (No.  224.)  The  first  perusal  shook 
what  little  faith  I  then  had,  which  was  in  the 
universal  salvation  of  all  mankind.  It  made  me 
feel  uneasy  in  my  mind,  and  1  determined  to  give 
it  a  second  perusal.  That  struck  the  bloiv.  I 
found  I  must  be  born  again,  or  I  could  not  enter 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  I  then,  in  secret  prayer 
to  God,  began  to  call  for  mercy.  My  sins,  which 
were  great  and  many,  rose  to  my  view  so  plain, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  I  must  sink  under  the  load  of 
guilt,  which  hung  heavy  upon  me.  My  fear  was 
that  I  had  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  that  the 
die  was  cast.  I  was  in  a  miserable  condition  till 
the  night  of  the  twenty-third  of  October,  1831. 
Previous  to  this  time,  I  was  continually  reading 
14 


158  CONVERSION    OF   A   SAILOR. 

my  Bible,  and  other  good  books,  and  praying  con- 
tinually, whether  at  my  ship  duty,  or  when  I  had 
retired  for  rest.  I  could  eat  but  little,  grew 
poor,  and  was  fairly  emaciated  with  pain  and  dis- 
tress of  mind,  for  my  long  sinning  against  so 
glorious  a  God.  However,  the  night  above  men- 
tioned, I  remained  in  prayer  to  God,  for  forgive- 
ness of  my  long  rebellion  against  heaven,  till 
nearly  twelve  o'clock,  when  I  went  to  bed  feel- 
ing sick  of  life,  and  fearful  of  hell. 

I  had  been  asleop  one  hour,  when  I  awoke, 
and  the  glory  of  God  shone  bright  around  me. 
I  immediately  arose,  and  knelt  down  by  the  side 
of  my  chest,  and  poured  forth  my  soul  in  grati- 
tude to  God,  for  his  long-suffering,  and  for  the 
testimony  he  gave  me,  that  my  sins  were  all  for- 
given. I  felt  so  happy,  that  I  could  sleep  no 
more  that  night.  I  have  since  then  had  my  ups 
and  downs  on  the  ocean,  and  the  more  so  for  not 
having  any  Christian  friends,  with  whom  I  could 
converse.  However,  since  I  have  arrived  in  the 
city,  I  have  enjoyed  myself  much  better  in  mind. 
1  frequently  attend  meetings,  which  strengthen 
me.  My  faith  increases,  and  the  dark  clouds  of 
doubt  and  fear  are  removing,  and  I  feel  happy  in 
the  Lord. 

This  religion  has  caused  me  to  relinquish  a 
seafaring  life — has  procured  me  good  business — 
and  introduced  me  into  the  best  of  society.  It 
is  my  desire  that  I  may  have  your  prayers,  that  I 
may  be  faithful  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  that  I  may- 
be as  valiant  a  soldier  of  Jesus,  as  I  have  been 
a  faithful  servant  of  Satan,  or  hardened  son  of 
Neptune. 


(   159) 


SECRET    OF  A   MOTHER'S  CONTROL   OVER 
THE  CONSCIENCE  OF  HER  SON. 

This  control  consists  chiefly  in  a  mother's  do- 
ing  her  duty.  There  is  nothing  a  child  needs 
more  than  an  example  of  duty  performed.  Duty 
may  be  talked  about,  and  enforced  by  precept^ 
and  even  be  prayed  over,  but  if  the  child  per- 
ceives that  all  duty  is  neglected  to  be  done  on 
the  part  of  the  parent,  that  parent  can  never  en- 
force duty  upon  the  child.  For  instance,  the  du- 
ty of  moral  honesty ;  it  goes  into  all  the  ramifi- 
cations of  life. 

A  lad  one  morning  picked  up  several  dollars 
in  the  road,  which  had  been  lost  the  night  pre- 
vious from  the  trunk  of  a  traveller,  a  breach  hav- 
ing been  made  in  the  trunk  by  the  pressure  and 
jostling  of  a  large  sum  of  silver  money.  The 
lad  immediately  handed  the  money  to  his  father, 
who  carefully  concealed  it  in  his  pocket.  But 
how  was  that  son  surprised  and  injured,  on  dis- 
covering subsequently,  that  his  father  had  him- 
self, the  same  morning,  picked  up  a  large  sum 
of  money,  and  though  the  stranger,  as  he  re- 
passed, had  made  known  to  them  his  misfortunes, 
his  father  took  no  pains  to  restore  any  part  of  the 
money.  The  mother  soon  came  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  facts,  and,  as  far  as  she  was  able,  coun- 
teracted the  mischief.  She  taught  her  son,  that 
he  had  no  right  to  the  money,  not  even  to  a  cent 
for  finding  it.  I  heard  her  counsel  to  a  number 
of  lads  who  had  likewise  picked  up  some  pieces 
by  the  way  side.  "  My  lads,"  said  she  "  that 
stranger  has  a  right  to  every  cent  of  his  money. 


You  have  no  right  to  any  part."  Her  inquiries 
and  instructions  elicited  from  the  Jads  the  fol- 
lowing facts  and  opinions,  respecting  their  find- 
ing and  retaining  the  lost  money.  One  of  the 
lads  said,  the  stranger  could  not  prove  property, 
and  so  could  not  claim  it  by  law  ;  another,  said, 
if  he  had  not  picked  it  up,  somebody  else  would, 
and  it  would  be  as  eflfectually  lost  to  the  owner, 
as  if  he  had  retained  it  himself.  Another,  that 
he  was  not  to  blame  for  picking  up  what  was  in 
the  highway  ;  a  fourth  said  that  he  was  willing 
the  stranger  should  have  his  money,  if  he  would 
come  to  him  and  demand  it ;  a  fifth,  that  he  was 
glad  that  he  did  not  find  any,  for  he  was  sure 
that  his  mother  would  not  let  him  restore  it ;  for 
the  other  day  when  he  found  a  dollar  bill,  his 
mother  told  him,  to  say  nothing  about  it,  for  very 
likely  some  one  would  claim  it,  that  was  not  the 
real  owner,  and  he  might  have  it,  as  well  as  any 
one  else.  Another  said,  he  wished  his  mother 
had  not  laid  his  cut  to  pay  the  pedlar  that  morn- 
ing, for  he  would  like  to  restore  it  to  the  owner. 
Another,  that  he  would  restore  his,  if  his  parents 
vi'ould  let  him.  Another  that  he  had  picked  up 
ten  pieces,  but  that  when  he  handed  them  to  his 
mother,  she  said,  it  was  just  the  sum,  his  father 
wanted  to  pay  his  taxes. 

This  good  mother  in  Israel,  after  endeavoring 
to  obviate  all  their  objections  to  restore  the  lost 
property,  showing  to  them  the  fallacy  of  their 
reasoning,  and  the  injustice  of  their  various 
pleas  for  not  restoring  the  money,  immediately  to 
the  rightful  owner,  faithfully  admonished  them, 
that,  at  the  last  day,  conscience  would  lift  up  its 
voice  and  demand  the  stranger's  rights.     One 


OVER   THli    CONSCIENCE    OF    HER   SON.      161 

thing  they  did  know,  that  the  money  was  not 
theirs,  and  that  it  could  be  easily  restored  to  the 
right  owner.  *' My  children,"  said  she,  "  hear 
me  ;  the  person  who  lost  that  money  may,  at  this 
very  moment,  be  in  great  distress.  He  may  be 
a  very  poor  man,  and  may  have  been  commission- 
ed to  pay  a  debt  with  it ,  and  may  be  greatly  per- 
plexed, when  he  finds  it  is  lost.  He  may  be 
greatly  pressed  for  the  payment  of  that  debt.  Or 
it  may  be,  that  some  poor  widow  lost  it,  and  her 
family  of  children  may  be  in  great  distress  this 
winter,  for  the  want  of  that  money  to  buy  them 
clothes  and  food."  'Oh,'  said  she,  '  how  sorry 
I  am  that  he  lost  his  money.  My  dear  boys,  if 
you  are  willing  to  restore  the  money,  I  will  try 
to  find  the  stranger,  and  make  his  heart  glad." 
The  lads  consented ;  but  I  was  afterwards 
grieved  to  knov/  that  although  the  stranger  re- 
turned ail  the  way  from  Philadelphia,  to  look  up 
his  lost  money,  and  at  length  discovered  that  his 
trunk  sprung  aleak  in  my  father's  neighborhood, 
and  that  the  money  had  been  strewed  for  several 
miles  along  the  road;  that  after  spending  a  whole 
day  in  the  research,  he  found  so  many  difficult 
ties  in  the  way  of  recovering  it,  that  he  gave  it 
up  in  despair,  and  had  gone  on  his  journey. 
This  grieved  the  mother  in  Israel  who  had  coun- 
selled the  lads.  But  it  was  worth  all  the  mon- 
ey that  was  lost,  to  have  such  a  salutary  im- 
pression, as  was  made,  by  this  incident  upon 
my  mind,  and  upon  the  minds  of  the  lads,  by 
means  of  that  Christian  mother's  faithful  lecture. 
I  can  never  lose  the  impression,  which  that  lec- 
ture made  upon  my  mind,  and  I  hope  upon  my 
morals,  and  upon  my  heart. 
14* 


1G2  EFFECTS    OF    KINDNESS. 

Whenever  a  case  of  this  kind  has  subsequent- 
ly occurred,  I  have  been  led  not  only  to  search 
myself,  but  I  have  invariably  asked  myself, 
"  Am  I  sorry  that  my  neighbor  lost  that  article 
that  I  am  about  to  pick  up  in  the  street,  or  in 
the  field  1  Am  I  willing,  not  only  to  put  him  in 
possession  ol"his  property,  but  so  promptly,  as 
to  save  him  a  moment's  anxiety,  and  every  pos- 
sible expense  in  recovering  what  is  his  own. 
Do  I  allow  myself  to  expect  any  reward  for  re- 
storing the  lost  article  to  my  unfortunate  neigh- 
bor 1  Have  I  any  right  to  demand  or  expect 
any  thing  from  him  in  return  ?  If  I  had  lost 
the  same  amount  of  property,  should  I  be  wil- 
ling that  my  neighbor  should  charge  me  any 
thing  for  finding  it? 


EFFECTS  OF  KINDNESS. 

A  FEW  ladies  in  the  city  of  New  York  form- 
ed themselves  into  a  society  for  the  purpose  of 
relieving  the  wants  of  the  wives  of  the  intem- 
perate, where  it  could  be  done  without  encour- 
aging the  drunkard — and  to  place  their  children 
in  Sabbath  schools. 

Their  first  object  of  compassion  was  the  fami- 
ly of  one,  who  had  for  eleven  years  given  himself 
entirely  to  his  cups,  until  his  amiable  wife  and 
helpless  children  where  reduced  to  the  greatest 
wretchedness.  The  ladies  called  upon  her,  made 
known  their  message,  presented  her  with  suita- 


EFFECTS    OF    KINDNESS,  163 

blc  raiment  for  lier  children  to  appear  in  Sab- 
bath scliools,  and  added,  You  can  do  as  you 
think  proper  respecting  your  husband — acquaint 
liini  with  the  object,  or  not.  Sabbath  morning 
came.  A  lady  with  faltering  steps,  decended 
the  cellar,  to  take  the  inmates  to  school — for  she 
feared  the  incensed  husband  might  pour  out  his 
wrath,  and  forbid  her  taking  the  children  along 
with  her.  As  she  slowly  advanced,  all  was  si- 
lent. She  ventured,  and,  to  her  astonishment, 
the  father  was  sitting  quietly  on  one  side  of  the 
room ;  a  son  about  ten  was  sitting  in  a  corner, 
neatly  clad,  with  a  Testament  in  his  hand ;  a 
little  girl  of  four,  fair  as  the  new-blown  rose,  was 
attired  in  a  new  suit;  and  the  room  itself  per- 
fect neatness.  She  said,  Are  the  children  ready  1 
when  the  mother,  taking  the  girl  by  the  hand, 
led  her  to  the  lady,  without  saying  a  word — for 
her  heart  was  full,  at  such  new  and  unexpected 
kindness;  and  they  joyfully  hastened  to  the  Sab- 
bath school  together.  The  father  was  a  man  of 
sense ;  and  low  as  he  had  sunk,  had  not  lost  all 
sensibility.  That  Sabbath  was  a  new  day  to 
him.  He  saw  he  had  deserted  his  helpless  off- 
spring, and  the  kind  hand  of  charity  had  taken 
them  up. — He  saw  them  clad  in  decent  appar- 
el— not  by  Jiis  industry;  and  he  then  resolved 
jjhe  would  be  a  fool  no  longer.  His  wife  took  the 
Bible,  which  he  had  often,  forbid  her  reading, 
and  he  said,  "  Sarah,  will  you  read  aloud?" 
She  complied.  In  a  few  moments,  he  exclaim- 
ed, if  I  again  drink  another  drop,  may  1  die  in 
the  attempt.  A  rash  resolve — but  it  has  never 
been  broken.  The  next  morning  he  went  in 
quest  of  employ — found  it,  and  Saturday  night 


164  EXERTIONS    OP    A    PIOUS    FEMALE. 

brought  to  his  happy  wife  a  handsome  sum — 
placed  his  children  in  school — removed  from  his 
cellar  to  a  comfortable  apartment,  and  as  far  as 
the  most  assiduous  attention  and  kindness  would 
do  it,  atoned  for  all  past  abuse — and  soon  saw  his 
happy  family  comfortable  around  him. 

A  few  weeks  from  this  change,  the  lady,  who 
had  taken  his  children  to  the  Sabbath  school, 
had  called  to  conduct  the  little  girl  to  a  day 
school,  and  was  met  by  the  father,  who  stopped 
and  most  politely  accosted  her,  saying — "  You 
are  taking  my  little  girl  to  school.  I  have  earn- 
ed twenty  shillings  this  morning,  and  I  hope  I 
shall  soon  be  in  a  condition  to  make  my  family 
comfortable."  It  is  so.  He  has  continued  an 
industrious,  sober  man — -and  his  wife  the  happi- 
est that  can  possibly  be ;  and  his  gratitude  to  the 
lady  who  first  clothed  and  led  his  children  to 
Sabbath  school  is  almost  unparalleled. 

Such  was  the  effect  of  this  noiseless  rebuke — 
and  such  was  the  reward  of  those  who  stretched 
out  their  hands  to  the  needy.  A  family  raised 
from  the  lowest  degradation,  to  a  state  of  com- 
fort— and  the  heart  of  the  bowed  down  made  to 
sing  for  joy. 


f 


EXERTIONS  OF  A  PIOUS  FEMALE. 


At  a  late  anniversary  of  a  charitable  society, 
one  of  the  speakers  on  the  occasion  related  the 
following  interesting  anecdote.  It  referred,  he 
said,  to  a  female  in  one  of  our  large  trading 


EXERTIONS    OP    A    PIOUS    FEMALE.  165 

towns.  She  was  formerly  a  most  abandoned 
character,  one  of  the  most  wicked  women  that 
perhaps  ever  trod  on  the  face  of  the  globe. 
However,  by  the  grace  of  God,  she  was  brought 
to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  was  sent  to  a 
penitentiary,  where  she  gave  the  most  decided 
evidence  of  a  saving  change  of  heart ;  but, 
shortly  after  being  put  into  that  situation,  she 
was  deprived  of  the  use  of  both  her  hands  and 
feel.  Her  heart,  however,  was  full  of  love  to  the 
Saviour,  and  she  was  at  a  loss  to  show  forth  the 
praises  of  that  God,  who  had  called  her  out  of 
darkness  into  his  marvellous  light.  She  could 
not  walk  about  to  tell  what  God  had  done  for  her 
soul;  she  could  not  employ  her  hands,  but  she 
learned  to  write  with  her  mouth,  and  ihe  letters 
thus  written  being  sold  at  small  sums,  produced 
something  considerable  to  the  funds  of  the  peni- 
tentiary. She  began  to  learn  the  art  of  painting, 
and  the  produce  of  those  paintings,  which  she 
accomplished  with  her  mouth,  produced  last  year 
seventy-five  dollars  to  the  funds  of  the  institu- 
tion. Now  he  would  not  say  to  this  assembly.  Go 
and  do  thou  likewise  ;  but  he  would  say.  You  have 
hands  and  you  have  feet,  and  you  have  a  tongue 
to  tell  the  wonders  of  redeeming  love:  go  and 
do  what  you  can. 


(   166  ) 


AFFECTING  EXAMPLE  OF  USEFULNESS   IN 
POVERTY. 

There  was  a  poor  woman  in  the  limits  of  my 
former  congregation,  observes  a  clergyman,  the 
mother  of  five  or  six  small  children,  whose  hus- 
band was  a  notorious  drunkard,  so  that  the  sup- 
port of  the  family  devolved  almost  entirely  upon 
herself,  which  she  accomplished,  in  part,  by  go- 
ing out  to  washing  several  days  of  the  week. 
She  obtained,  some  years  since,  a  few  religious 
tracts,  and,  in  reading  them,  became  warmly  at- 
tached to  the  tract  cause.  Before  there  was  any 
tract  society  in  the  county,  she  provided  herself 
with  a  subscription  paper,  and,  taking  a  some- 
what extensive  circuit,  procured  upwards  of 
twenty  subscribers,  averaging  about  twenty  cents 
each.  Her  own  subscription  was  fifty  cents.  A 
part  of  the  money  was  collected  and  paid  to  me 
for  tracts  before  I  left  the  county,  and  I  had  op- 
portunity to  learn  particularly  how  the  subscrip- 
tions were  obtained  and  the  tracts  disposed  of. 
It  appears  that  the  distance  she  must  have  trav- 
elled on  foot,  in  first  procuring  the  subscriptions,^ 
then  collecting  the  money,  and  afterwards  dis-^ 
tributing  her  tracts,  must  have  been  more  than 
twenty  miles.  She  lived  in  an  obscure  part  of 
the  town,  where  the  religious  advantages  of  tBie 
people  were  very  small ;  and  the  influence  ^e 
has  exerted,  through  the  instrumentality  of  her 
tracts,  is  truly  wonderful!  Numbers  are  influen- 
ced in  this  way  to  think  and  act  for  eternity, 
whose  minds  were  previously  wholly  absorbed  in 


EXAMPLE  OP  USEFULNESS  IN  POVERTY.  167 

the  world.  The  people  are  so  remote  from  any 
place  of  worship,  that  many  spend  their  Sab- 
baths at  home,  or  in  visiting  ;  and,  in  order  to 
take  advantage  of  this  state  of  things,  the  indi- 
vidual in  question  has,  on  the  Sabbath,  taken 
her  tracts,  and,  calling  upon  her  neighbors,  beg- 
ged the  privilege  of  reading  to  them  ;  and,  though 
she  has  sometimes  found  them  at  first  disposed 
to  trifle,  yet  she  has,  in  some  instances,  melted 
them  into  tears,  by  the  interesting  narratives 
contained  m  these  publications.  In  this  way, 
she  is  doing  most  important  good  ;  and  whoever 
shall  tread  in  her  steps  cannot  fail  of  being  emi- 
nently useful,  however  obscure  their  rank,  or 
low  their  circumstances  in  the  world. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  this  woman  ha 
learned  to  read  since  she  became  the  mother  o 
a  family,  and  has  never  enjoyed  any  opportuni 
ties  beyond  what  almost  every  individual  of  our 
highly  favored  country  might  easily  obtain.  She 
is  truly  poor  in  regard  to  all  worldly  attainments 
and  temporal  good  things,  but  "  rich  in  faith," 
and,  I  trust,  "  an  heir  of  the  kingdom."  I  gave 
her  a  volume  of  bound  tracts,  and  she  now  uses 
it  as  her  sennon-book,  when  she  goes  into  the 
houses  of  her  neighbors,  to  read  to  them  these 
words  of  eternal  life. 


(   168   ) 


A  MOTHER'S  DIFFICULTIES. 

It  not  unfrequently  happens  that  a  judicious 
and  faithful  mother  is  connected  with  a  husband 
whose  principles  and  example  are  anything  but 
what  she  could  desire.  In  such  cases,  not  only 
does  the  whole  government  of  the  family  devolve 
upon  the  mother,  but  the  influence  of  the  father 
is  such  as,  in  a  great  degree,  to  counteract  all 
her  exertions.  This  is  indeed  a  trying  situation. 
It  is,  however,  far  from  being  a  hopeless  one. 
You  must  not  give  up  in  despair,  but  let  the  em- 
ergencies of  the  case  rouse  you  to  more  constant 
watchfulness,  and  more  persevering  and  vigor- 
ous effort.  If  a  wife  be  judicious  and  consis- 
tent in  her  exertion,  a  father,  in  almost  all  cases, 
will  soon  feel  confidence  in  her  management  of 
the  family,  and  will  very  gladly  allow  her  to  bear 
all  the  burden  of  taking  care  of  the  children. 
Such  a  father  is  almost  necessarily  much  of  the 
time  absent  from  home ;  and  when  at  home,  is 
not  often  in  a  mood  to  enjoy  the  society  of  his 
family.  Let  such  a  mother  teach  her  children 
to  be  quiet  and  still,  when  their  father  is  pres- 
ent. Let  her  make  every  effort  to  accustom  them 
to  habits  of  industry.  And  let  her  do  every-JL 
thing  in  her  power  to  induce  them  to  be  respect- 
ful, and  obedient,  and  affectionate  to  their  fa- 
ther. This  course  is  indeed  the  best  which  can 
be  adopted  to  reclaim  the  unhappy  parent.  The 
more  cheerful  you  can  make  home  to  him,  the 
stronger  are  the  inducements,  which  are  present- 


169 


ed  to  draw  him  away  from  scenes,  into  which 
he  ought  not  to  enter. 

It  is  true,  there  is  no  situation  more  difficult 
than  the  one  we  are  now  describing.  But,  that 
even  these  difficuhies  are  not  insurmountable, 
facts  have  not  unfrequently  proved.  Many  ca- 
ses occur,  in  which  the  mother  triumphantly  sur- 
mounts them  all,  and  rears  up  a  virtuous  and 
happy  family.  Her  husband  is  most  brutally  in- 
temperate ;  and  I  need  not  here  depict  the 
scenes,  through  which  such  a  mother  is  called  to 
pass.  She  sees,  however,  that  the  welfare  of  the 
family  is  dependent  upon  her,  and  accordingly 
nerves  her  hea»"t,  resolutely,  to  meet  her  respon- 
sibilities. She  commences,  in  the  earliest  in- 
fancy of  her  children,  teaching  them  implicit 
obedience.  She  binds  them  to  her  with  those 
ties  from  which  they  would  never  be  able,  or  de- 
sirous to  break.  The  most  abundant  success  re- 
wards her  efforts.  The  older  her  children  grow, 
the  more  respectful  and  attentive  they  become, 
for  the  more  clearly  they  see  that  they  are  in- 
debted to  their  mother  for  salvation  from  their 
father's  disgrace  and  woe.  Every  sorrow  of 
such  a  mother  is  alleviated  by  the  sympathy  and 
affection  of  her  sons.  She  looks  around  upon 
them  with  feelings  of  maternal  gratification, 
which  no  language  can  describe.  They  feel  the 
worth  and  dignity  of  her  character.  Though 
her  situation  in  life  may  be  humble,  and  though 
her  mind  may  not  be  stored  with  knowledge,  her 
moral  worth,  and  her  judicious  government, 
command  their  reverence. 

In  a  family  of  this  sort,  in  a  neighboring  state, 
one  cold  December  night,  the  mother  was  sit- 
15 


170  A  mother's  difficulties. 

ting  alone  by  the  fire,  between  the  hours  of 
nine  and  ten,  waiting  for  the  return  of  her  ab- 
sent husband.  Her  sons,  fatigued  with  the  la- 
bors of  the  day,  had  all  retired  to  rest.  A  little 
before  ten,  her  husband  came  in  from  the  neigh- 
boring store,  where  he  had  passed  the  evening 
with  his  degraded  associates.  He  insisted  in 
calling  up  the  boys  at  that  unseasonable  hour, 
to  send  them  into  the  wood-lot  for  a  load  of 
wood.  Though  there  was  an  ample  supply  of 
fuel  at  the  house,  he  would  not  listen  to  reason, 
but  stamped  and  swore  that  the  boys  should  go. 
The  mother,  finding  it  utterly  in  vain  to  op- 
pose his  wishes,  called  her  sons,  and  told  them 
that  their  father  insisted  upon  their  going  with 
the  team  to  the  wood-lot.  She  spoke  to  them 
kindly  ;  told  them  she  was  sorry  they  must  go  ; 
but,  said  she,  "  remember  that  he  is  your  fath- 
er." Her  sons  were  full-grown  young  men.  But 
at  their  mother's  voice,  they  immediately  rose, 
and,  without  a  murmur,  brought  out  the  oxen, 
and  went  to  the  woods.  They  had  perfect  con- 
fidence in  her  judgment,  and  her  management. 
While  they  were  absent,  their  mother  was  busy 
in  preparing  an  inviting  supper  for  them  on  their 
return.  The  drunken  father  soon  retired.  About 
midnight  the  sons  finished  their  task,  and  enter- 
ing the  house,  found  their  mother  ready  to  re- 
ceive them  with  cheerfulness  and  smiles.  A 
bright  fire  was  blazing  upon  the  hearth.  The 
room  was  warm  and  pleasant.  With  keen  ap- 
petites and  that  cheerfulness  of  spirits,  which  gen- 
erally accompanies  the  performance  of  duty, 
those  children  sat  down  with  their  much-loved 
parent  to  the  repast  she  had  provided,  and  soon 
after  all  were  reposing  in  the  quietude  of  sleep. 


SORROW  TURNED  TO  JOY.  171 

Many  a  mother  has  thus  been  the  guardian 
and  saviour  of  her  family.  She  has  brought  up 
her  sons  to  industry,  and  her  daughters  to  virtue. 
And  in  her  old  age,  she  has  reaped  a  rich  re- 
ward for  all  her  toil,  in  the  affections  and  atten- 
tions of  her  grateful  children.  She  has  struggled 
in  tears  and  discouragement,  for  many  weary 
years,  till  at  last  God  has  dispelled  all  the  gloom, 
and  filled  her  heart  with  joy,  in  witnessing  the 
blessed  results  of  her  fidelity.  Be  not,  therefore, 
desponding.  That  which  has  once  been  done, 
may  be  done  again. 


SORROW  TURNED  TO  JOY. 

Fifteen  years  ago,  said  Captain  Angus,  at  a 
late  meeting  of  the  London  Seamen's  Friend 
Society,  I  commanded  a  vessel  in  the  merchant 
service  ;  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  lodge  under  the  roof 
of  a  pious  widow,  who  had  a  son,  the  stay  and 
support  of  her  old  age.  This  lad,  who  was  about 
sixteen  years  of  age,  conducted  himself  with 
great  propriety  in  his  situation  ;  but,  all  in  a 
moment,  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  the  report  came 
to  his  mother's  ears  that  he  had  committed  an 
offence,  which,  though  morally  speaking  was 
not  of  the  most  heinous  nature,  was,  neverthe- 
less, sufficient  to  touch  his  life.  The  poor 
mother  by  the  advice  of  some  friends,  was  in- 
duced to  send  her  son  to  sea,  on  board  a  man  of 
war ;    and   who   would   have   thought  that,  in 


172  SORROW  TURNED  TO  JOY. 

sending  him  there,  it  was  to  meet  the  God  of 
salvation,  and  be  brought  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth  ?  But  God  has  his  way  in  the  deep. 
He  had  not   been  long  on  board  H.  M.  S.  the 

S ,  before  he  got  acquainted  with  a  corporal 

of  Marines,  the  only  man  on  board  that  ship  who 
knew  the  truth,  and  lived  in  the  love  of  it.  He 
began  to  speak  to  him,  as  every  good  seaman  we 
hope  will  do,  about  the  love  of  Christ,  as  exhibit- 
ed on  the  cross  for  poor  sinners.  This  was  the 
very  conversation  suited  to  his  heart,  whose 
crime  was  yet  on  his  conscience  ;  and  the  pious 
man  was  glad  to  make  known  to  him  the  only 
way  of  comfort  in  the  word  of  life,  which  says, 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  This  conver- 
sation was  blessed  to  him,  till  he  became  a  de- 
cided Christian.  Thus  these  two  small  sparks 
in  the  midst  of  the  ocean  came  in  contact ;  and 
here  they  met  under  the  scoffs  and  sneers  of  a 
licentious  and  wicked  crew.  These  two  became 
three,  and  then  four,  and  five,  and  so  on,  till,  in 
the  course  of  time,  fifty  of  their  shipmates, 
among  whom  were  some  of  the  officers,  became 
with  them  worshippers  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
You  will  readily  believe  how  glad  the  heart  of 
the  poor  widow  was,  when  she  had  the  first  letter, 
from  her  son  to  find  that  the  storm  which  had 
seemed  to  threaten  nothing  but  destruction  to  her 
peace,  should  break  in  blessings  on  her  head.  This 
vessel  was  four  years  on  the  Mediterranean  station, 
and  was  engaged  in  some  of  the  most  bloody  bat- 
tles, in  particular  one  with  the  Turkish  squadron  ; 
and  in  that  and  in  other  battles,  these  humble 
followers  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  despised  as 


FAMILY  DISCirHNE.  173 

they  were,  gave  the  strongest  proofs  of  their  valor 
and  their  attachment  to  their  king  and  country. 
When  this  vessel  arrived  in  port,  and  w^as  paid 
off,  and  every  one  rolled  in  money,  and  every 
thing  tended  to  induce  them  to  break  their  al- 
legiance with  the  Prince  of  Peace,  they  gave  the 
noblest  testimony  that  the  work  of  God  on  their 
hearts  was  divine. 


FAMILY  DISCIPLINE. 

We  often  speak  of  the  docility  of  a  child,  as  the 
standardof  our  Christian  docility;  but  the  image 
is  to  be  qualified.  We  assume  an  abstraction, 
not  a  fact;  and  argue  from  ideal  childhood — » 
from  what  a  child  ought  to  be,  and  often  ap- 
pears to  be,  not  from  what  a  child  is!  Some 
children  have  sweet  tempers,  and  sweeter  coun- 
tenances, and  still  sweeter  manners,  and  most 
fascinating  glee  and  gambols  ;  and  should  we 
argue  from  those  infantile  charms  of  appearance, 
that  the  jiioral  tone  of  the  soul  was  equally  be- 
nign and  amiable,  we  should  be  brought  to 
a  conclusion  contradictory  to  the  word  of  God, 
and  to  all  moral  observation,  and  moral  experi- 
ment, and  moral  evidence. 

I  have  an  anecdote  in  point.  It  was  in  the 
family  of  a  pious  minister,  who  had  then  a  re- 
vival in  his  congregation,  that  the  matter  oc- 
curred.— '*  Electra,"  said  her  mother  to  a  little 
daughter  of  two  and  a  half  years  old,  playing  on 
15* 


174  FAMILY  DISCIPLINE. 

the  floor ;  "  bring  me  that  apple,  my  dear." 
She  looked  at  her  mother,  said  "  No"  with  in- 
difference, and  resumed  her  play.  Her  mother 
rejoined,  "  Bring  me  that  apple  instantly,"  and 
was  answered,  *'  I  wo'nt." 

Things  now  became  in  earnest ;  and  after 
several  more  orders  and  refusals,  the  case  was 
resigned  to  the  father,  who  was  present  and  had 
observed  the  scene.  With  a  tone  of  authority, 
and  yet  of  benevolence,  he  reiteiated  the  man- 
date, "  Take  that  apple  to  your  mother,  my 
child  !  "  Electra  arose,  went  to  the  place  where 
the  apple  was,  picked  up  a  chip  that  was  near  it, 
returned,  threw  it  into  her  mother's  lap,  and  was 
going  to  her  play.  Her  father,  here,  took  hold 
of  her,  brought  her  near  him,  expostulated, 
warned,  and  then  re-ordered  her.  Her  sullen- 
ness  deepened  into  silence  and  malignity — my 
will  he  done,  was  her  deliberate  position.  Her 
father  was  one  of  those  thorough-going  Christian 
moralists,  who  believe  no  better  ethics  can  be 
made  by  man  than  God  has  made  for  him  in  his 
word,  and  who  carried  practice  with  theory,  as 
well  as  theory  with  scripture.  He  took  down 
the  provided  hirch  from  the  top  of  the  old  clock, 
and  very  dispassionately  applied  it  to  the  obsti- 
nate offender.  Electra  screamed,  and  begged, 
and  squirmed,  and  called  for  her  mother — who 
first  interfered  with  very  cruel  advocacy,  and 
then,  in  a  flood  of  tears  left  the  room.  Her 
father  forbore,  and  tried  her  again.  She  walked, 
pouting  and  sobbing,  to  the  apple,  stood  still  near 
it,  and  said,  she  could  not  pick  it  up.  Her  father 
understood  the  nature  of  her  inability,  and  its 
true   relations   to   accountability.      It  was  just 


FAMILY  DISCIPLINE.  175 

such  an  one  as  keeps  a  sinner  from  obeying  God  1 
Her  father  paused  for  some  minutes  :  Electra 
looked  alternately  at  the  apple  and  at  him, 
pouted,  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  said  again  that  she 
could  not  pick  up  the  apple.  Another  whipping 
was  the  consequence. — ^Electra  screamed  louder 
than  ever,  begged  and  jjromised.  On  this,  her 
father  tried  her  again.  She  went  to  the  apple, 
stood  still,  held  her  eyes  to  the  floor,  said  and 
did  nothing.  Here  some  sympathetic  spectators, 
—  friends  of  the  family,  visiting, — began  to  plead 
and  apologize  for  the  sufferer,  and  to  insinuate 
that  it  was  useless  and  tyrannical  to  persist.  Her 
father  with  a  look,  gave  them  their  answer  and 
his  sentiments.  He  again  applied  the  birch, 
and  let  not  his  soul  spare  for  her  crying.  Her 
promises  were  now  frequent  as  the  rain-drops  of 
a  shower,  and  yet,  fewer  than  the  steady  strokes 
of  enlightened  love,  \hB.t  honored  the  command- 
ment of  God,  and  subordinated  the  sympathies 
of  a  father  to  the  duties  of  a  Christian.  As  soon 
as  he  had  ceased,  while  his  steady  carriage  had 
awed  the  circle  into  silence,  Electra  showed 
herself  to  have  become  another  creature  :  she 
ran  to  the  apple,  took  it  up,  and  brought  it  to 
her  father.  Her  actions  spoke  her  obstinacy 
gone,  her  pride  subdued,  her  temper  humbled, 
tender,  penitent.  Her  mother  was  called.  As 
soon  as  she  entered  the  apartment — "  Electra," 
said  her  father,  "put  this  a!pple  where  it  was  on 
the  carpet."  Again  said  he,  *'  Take  it  up  and 
carry  it  to  your  mother."  She  obeyed  with 
alacrity  and  tears.  ''Come  here,  my  daughter," 
She  came.  *'  What  a  naughty  girl  was  Electra  ?" 
*' Yes."     To  the  questions,  "  Are  you  sorry  ?  " 


176  THE    FENNEL    LEAVES. 

*'  Do  you  love  father  ?  "  "  Will  you  be  good  ?  '' 
"  Do  father  and  mother  love  you?"  and  others 
like  them,  she  assented  ;  constantly  opening  her 
arms,  and  raising  her  lips,  for  the  kiss  and  ca- 
resses of  her  father. 

Her  mother  then  began  her  confession;  asked 
pardon  for  the  improper  strength  of  her  feelings, 
and  acknowledged  that  her  love  for  the  child 
was  spurious,  in  comparison  with  that  of  her 
husband.  The  others  united  in  the  acknow- 
ledgment, while  Electra's  tears  were  drying,  and 
her  sobs  diminishing  on  her  father's  knee.  But 
the  little  penitent  was  really  too  weak  to  stand, 
and  too  sore  to  play.  She  was  put  upon  the 
couch,  where  a  sweet  sleep  and  gentle  appli- 
cations, soon  wrought  her  complete  recovery. 


THE  FENNEL  LEAVES. 

The  question  is  often  asked,  *'  At  what  age 
can  a  child  obtain  correct  ideas  of  a  God  ?  '* 
As  this  question  cannot  invariably,  if  ever,  be 
satisfactorily  answered  by  a  finite  mind,  is  it  too 
much  to  believe  that  while  a  mother  is  endeavor- 
ing to  instruct  the  little  children,  and  conversing 
with  them  about  the  great  God,  who  made  heav. 
en  and  earth,"  that  the  Holy  Spirit  will  commu- 
nicate to  their  infant  minds  what  she  so  ardent- 
ly desires  they  should  know^  and  understand? 
In  confirmation  of  this  belief,  I  will  relate  an 
anecdote  which  occurred  in  the  experience  of 


THE    FENNEL    LEAVES  177 

Mrs.  M.,  a  member  of  our   Maternal  Associa- 
tion. 

Her  little  daughter,  a  child  of  three  years  and 
seven  months,  on  one  occasion,  when  her  moth- 
er was  ill,  had  permission  of  an  older  sister  to 
go  into  the  garden  and  pick  some  fennel.  The 
child  soon  returned  with  a  handful  of  fennel 
heads  and  leaves.  The  leaves  she  said  she  pick- 
ed from  a  stalk  of  dill.  Her  sister  reproved  her 
for  telling  a  falsehood.  The  child  persisted  in 
saying  they  were  dill  leaves.  Her  sister  imme- 
diately led  E.  to  her  mother's  chamber,  and  in- 
formed her  of  the  child's  prevarication.  Mrs. 
M.  called  her  little  daughter  to  her  bed-side  and 
questioned  her.  She  still  affirmed  that  they 
were  dill  leaves.  "  My  child,"  said  Mrs.  M, 
"  we  all  know  that  it  is  not  so,  and  God  knows 
it  is  not  so."  She  then  explained  to  her  the  sin 
of  lying.  E.  burst  into  tears,  and  confessed  the 
truth.  Mrs.  M.  inquired,  why  she  told  that  lie. 
The  child  replied,  ''  Because  I  wanted  to." 
Mrs.  M.  exclaimed,  surely,  my  child  now  needs 
the  "  Great  Helper."  Mrs.  M.  rose  from  her 
sick  bed,  and  retiring  with  her  child,  to  a  room, 
where  she  had  been  accustomed  to  go  with  her 
children  for  prayer,  told  E.  she  must  there  ask 
God  to  forgive  her  great  sin.  But  when  Mrs. 
M.  kneeled,  the  child  would  not,  saying  "  She 
did  not  loant  to  go  to  God"  and  cried  very  much. 
Mrs.  M.  deeply  afflicted,  arose  from  her  knees, 
taking  the  Bible,  which  lay  near  her,  she  felt  the 
need  of  stronger  faith  in  that  promise,  *'  how 
much  more  sliall  your  heavenly  Father  give  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him."  She  felt 
that  truly  nothing  but  the   Spirit  and  grace  of 


178  THE    FENNEL    LEAVES. 

God  could  subdue  and  cleanse  the  heart  of  her 
little  one.  She  read  from  the  Bible  several  pas- 
sages about  lying,  which  she  thought  the  child 
could  understand.  To  her  unspeakable  joy,  E. 
came  to  her,  throwing  her  little  arms  around  her 
mother's  neck.  Mrs.  M.  said,  "  Does  my  little 
daughter  wish  to  ask  God  to  forgive  her  1  "  She 
replied,  "'  Yes." — Both  now  kneeled.  While 
this  mother  prayed,  her  little  girl  repeated  every 
word  after  her  mother,  of  her  own  accord,  a 
thing  she  had  never  before  attempted.  After 
this,  E.  appeared  calm,  but  very  serious.  Three 
days  elapsed  without  any  allusion  being  made  tc 
the  circumstance,  when  E.  said,  "  Mother  /  neV' 
er  knew  there  was  a  God,  before  that  day  I  tolc". 
a  lie."  Her  mother  replied,  "  My  dear,  I  have 
often  told  you  there  was  a  God."  "  I  know  you 
have,  mother,"  said  E.  "  but  I  never  knew  there 
was  a  God,  before  1  told  that  lie." 

About  a  week  from  this  time,  her  sister  desir- 
ed her  to  do  some  work.  She  immediately  com- 
plied. Her  sister  said  to  her,  "  Now  E.  is  a  good 
girl."  "  No,"  said  the  child,  "  I  am  not  a  good 
girl,  I  am  not  a  good  girl,  for  I  have  a  wicked 
heart  yet." 

Who  can  doubt  but  that  important  truths, 
such  as,  '*  thou  God  seest  me,"  may,  under  fa- 
vorable circumstances,  not  only  be  made  palpable 
to  the  understanding  of  a  very  little  child,  but 
deeply  engraven  upon  the  heart  1 


{  n9 ) 


MATERNAL  IRRESOLUTION. 

A  FEW  years  since,  a  lady  was  left  a  widow, 
with  several  little  sons.  She  loved  them  most 
affectionately,  as  mothers  are  wont  to  do.  The 
affliction  which  she  had  experienced  in  the  loss 
of  her  husband,  served  to  rivet  her  affections 
with  more  intensity  upon  her  children.  They 
were  her  only  hope.  Sad  and  joyless  as  she 
was,  she  could  not  endure  to  punish  them,  or  to 
deprive  them  of  a  single  indulgence.  Unhappy 
and  misguided  woman  !  Could  she  expect  to 
escape  the  consequences  of  such  a  course  ?  She 
was  living  upon  the  delusive  hope,  that  her  in- 
dulgences would  ensure  their  love.  And  now 
one  of  these  sons  is  seventeen  years  of  age,  a 
stout,  and  turbulent,  and  self-willed  boy.  He  is 
altogether  beyond  the  influence  of  maternal  re- 
straint. He  is  the  tyrant  of  the  family,  and  his 
afflicted  mother  is  almost  entirely  broken-heart- 
ed by  this  accumulation  of  sorrow.  The  rest  of 
the  children  are  coming  on  in  the  same  path. 
She  sees  and  trembles  in  view  of  the  calamity, 
which  it  is  now  too  late  to  avert.  It  would  be 
far  happier  for  her  to  be  childless,  as  well  as  a 
widow.  Her  children  are  her  oppressors.  She 
is  their  slave.  It  is  impossible  now  to  retrace 
her  steps,  or  to  retrieve  the.  injury  she  has  done 
her  children  and  herself.  Hardly  any  situation 
can  be  conceived  more  truly  pitiable.  And  what 
has  caused  this  magnitude  of  sorrow  ?  Simply, 
the  mother's  reluctance  to  do  her  duty.  She 
iooked  upon   her  poor  fatherless   children  with 


180  MY   OWN   HISTORY. 

all  the  tender  emotions  of  a  widowed  mother, 
and  could  not  bear  to  throw  around  them  neces- 
sary restraint,  and  insist  upon  obedience  to  her 
commands.  She  well  knew  that  when  they 
were  disobedient,  they  ought  to  be  punished, 
that  it  was  her  duty  to  enforce  her  authority.  It 
was  not  her  ignorance,  which  caused  this  dread- 
ful wreck  of  happiness  ;  it  was  the  want  of  res- 
olution— that  fond,  and  foolish,  and  cruel  ten- 
derness, which  induced  her  to  consult  her  own 
feelings,  rather  than  the  permanent  welfare  of 
her  children. 

The  reader  will,  perhaps,  inquire  whether  this 
statement  is  a  true  account  of  a  thousand  cases 
over  our  land.  Mothers,  we  appeal  to  your  ob- 
servation, if  you  do  not  see,  every  where  around 
fou,  these  wrecks  of  earthly  hopes.  Have  we 
not  warnings  enough  to  avoid  this  fatal  rock  ? 
and  yet  it  is  the  testimony  of  all  who  have  mov- 
ed about  the  world,  with  an  observing  eye,  that 
this  parental  irresolution  is  one  of  the  most  pro- 
minent causes  of  domestic  affliction. 


MY  OWN  HISTORY. 

Having  within  a  few  months  past  seen  many 
accounts  of  pious  parents,  especially  of  mothers^ 
instructing  their  children,  and  the  blessing  of 
God  aiiending  such  instruction  ;  whenever  I  read 
theae  accounts,  uiy  rumd  la  forcibly  struck  with 
the  remembrance  of  my  childhood.     Although  I 


MY    OWN    HISTORY.  181 

sm  a  man  of  gray  hairs,  yet  I  well  remember  the 
instruction  I  received  from  my  mother.  She 
dedicated  me,  as  she  believed,  to  God  in  bap- 
tism ;  but  she  did  not  stop  here,  as  thinking  she 
had  no  more  to  do:  she  was  faithful  in  striving 
to  instil  into  my  mind  the  first  principles  of  reli- 
gion. 

Here  I  would  mention  my  apprehensions,  that 
many  who  seem  to  set  out  well,  are  soon  dis- 
couraged ;  not  considering,  that  He  that  searches 
the  hearts  and  the  reins  will  prove  those  who 
profess  to  be  his.  What  mother  will  repent  in 
the  end,  (I  speak  in  particular  of  mothers,  be- 
cause they  have  such  favorable  opportunities  to 
warn  and  instruct  their  children,)  if  she  follows 
her  child,  week  after  week,  and  year  after  year, 
even  scores  of  years,  if  she  at  length  beholds 
her  child  numbered  with  the  followers  of  the 
Lamb,  andean  reflect  that  even  herself  was  the  in- 
strument of  leading  him  to  Jesus  1  God  may  see 
fit  to  prove  you,  for  a  long  time,  and  it  may  be, 
you  may  behold  the  power  and  mercy  of  the 
Lord  displayed  in  the  conversion  of  your  child, 
much  sooner  than  you  ever  dared  to  hope. 

Among  the  severely  tried,  I  think  my  mother 
was  one.  As  I  grew  in  years,  instead  of  leav- 
ing me  to  think  of  what  she  had  said,  she  follow- 
ed me,  as  determined  not  to  give  me  up;  till  her 
reproof  and  instruction  became  so  burdensome 
lo  me,  that  I  even  dreaded  to  be  found  where 
she  could  have  an  opportunity  to  say  anything  to 
me.  It  was  more  than  eight  years  after  she  took 
me  by  the  hand,  in  hopes  of  leading  me  to  her  Sa- 
viour, before  she  could  see  anything  in  me  to  en- 
courage her.  At  length,  a  sentence  from  her 
16 


182  MY    OWN    HISTORY- 

lips  was  an  arrow  to  my  heart.  I  trust  I  was 
deeply  wounded  ;  I  had  no  peace.  The  worm- 
wood and  the  gall  were  very  bitter.  The  sweet 
waters  of  life,  I  had  never  tasted  :  they  that  have 
no  eyes,  cannot  behold  the  light.  Thus  I  wan- 
dered in  darkness,  till,  as  I  humbly  hope,  Jesus 
opened  my  eyes  ;  and  then,  oh  then,  the  light  I 
discovered,  the  joy  I  felt,  no  mortal  knows,  but 
those  who  have  felt  the  same  !  If  ever  a  real 
change  has  taken  place  in  me,  my  mother,  in  the 
hands  of  God,  was  the  instrument.  I  feel  that  I 
have  cause  to  bless  God,  and  if  I  am  one  of  the 
redeemed,  I  shall,  through  all  eternity,  bless  him 
that  1  had  a  pious  mother. 

I  do  not  write  this  for  the  sake  of  telling  the 
world  my  experience,  but  with  an  earnest  de- 
sire, that  those  who  have  the  care  of  children^ 
may  teach  them  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  It  has 
caused  me  much  sorrow  of  heart,  to  see  some 
that  profess  to  be  friends  of  Christ,  carelessly 
neglect  their  children,  and  leave  them  to  follow 
in  the  course  of  this  world,  and  to  drink  in  the 
poison,  which  their  natural  appetites  crave.  And 
1  fear  that  many  of  these  children  are  harden- 
ing themselves  in  the  ways  that  lead  to  death; 
are  going  from  bad  to  worse,  till  the  mournful  in- 
terrogation of  the  prophet  will  apply  to  them  : 
*'  Can  the  Ethiopean  change  his  skin,,  or  the 
leopard  his  spots  1 " 

Some  of  you  that  have  the  care  of  children, 
will  say,  They  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  if  he 
sees  tit  to  convert  ihem,  he  will.  This  does  not 
lesson  your  obligation  to  govern  and  instruct 
them^  to  pray  for  and  with  thera,  in  the  least. 


A  BON  LEAVING  HIS  FATHER's  HOUSE.       183 

The  slothful  are  ever  ready  to  excuse  them- 
selves ;  but  they  that  truly  fear  God,  strive  to  do 
his  will. 


A  SON  LEAVING  HIS  FATHER'S  HOUSE. 

There  are  but  few  ordinary  incidents  in  the 
history  of  a  family  more  affecting  than  that  in 
which  a  son  leaves  the  paternal  roof,  to  seek  his 
fortune  in  the  wide  world.  When  your  daugh- 
ter is  married,  you  feel  that  she  is  provided  for. 
She  leaves  your  protection  for  another  protector. 
She  leaves  the  home  of  her  parents  to  enter  a 
home  of  her  own.  She  does  not  enter  into 
scenes  of  temptation,  but  is  rather  withdrawn 
from  them,  as  she  feels  the  pressure  of  domestic 
care. 

With  your  son  it  is  different ;  ardent  in  feel- 
ing, perhaps  impetuous  in  passion,  you  have  felt 
constant  solicitude  for  his  future  welfare.  The 
period  of  his  childhood  has  passed,  and  the  time 
has  arrived  in  which  he  must  leave  his  quiet 
home.  He  goes  to  a  distant  town  to  engage  in 
study,  or  in  the  active  employments  of  life. 
Withdrawn  from  the  restraints  and  the  holy  in- 
fluences of  home,  he  must  meet  temptation,  and 
bear  hardship.  You  look  around  you  upon  the 
wrecks  of  other  families.  You  see  the  children 
of  other  parents  ruined.  You  sit  down  and  en- 
deavor to  sum  up  the  number,  who  have  fallen 
the  victim  to  intemperance,  and  are  degraded 


184      A  SON  LEATING  HIS  FATHER^S  HOUSE. 

with  crime.  And  your  heart  sinks  within  yon 
to  see  how  appalling  is  the  record.  It  is,  howev- 
er, in  vain  to  think  of  keeping  your  son  longer 
at  home.  He  must  go  out  into  the  world,  and 
seek  his  fortune.  The  morning  for  his  depart- 
ure has  arrived.  The  well-packed  trunk  is  ready^ 
and  the  family  is  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the 
stage  coach,  which  is  to  bear  him  from  your  door. 
No  heart  can  be  so  unfeeling  as  not  to  be  crowd- 
ed with  conflicting  emotions,  in  such  an  hour  as 
this.  As  your  son  enters  the  stage  coach,  and  the 
rumbling  wheels  convey  him  from  your  sight,  oh 
is  it  not  a  relief  to  be  able  to  return  to  your 
closet,  and  unbosom  your  burdened  feelings  be- 
fore the  Lord  ?  If  you  can  thus  feel  that,  by 
prayer  and  instruction,  you  have  endeavored  to 
fortify  the  mind  of  your  child  against  temptation^ 
you  can  have  a  peace,  which  no  other  reflection 
can  afford.  Oh  how  manifestly  is  it  the  power 
of  religion,  which  is  demanded  in  such  an  hour 
as  this  ?  It  is  the  influence  of  religion,  which 
alone  can  strengthen  that  soli  for  the  temptations 
he  must  meet.  And  it  is  religion  alone,  which 
can  speak  peace  to  parental  solicitude. 

A  son  leaves  home  virtuous,  and  resolved  so  to 
remain.  He  is,  however,  in  his  new  situation 
thrown  into  the  society  of  unprincipled  young^ 
men.  He  must  hear  their  conversations.  He 
must  become  acquainted  with  their  habits  ;  and 
he  must  adopt  their  customs,  or  brave  their  op- 
position, and  bear  their  ridicule.  It  requires  no 
ordinary  degree  of  decision  of  character  for  a 
young  man  to  stand  firm,  and  hold  his  ground, 
against  a  current  so  strong.  He  yields,  step  by 
step.     He  indulges  first  in  trifling  sins.     Con- 


A  SON  LEAVING  HIS  FATHER'S  HOUSE.       185 

science  becomes  gradually  seared.  Soon  he 
grasps  the  wine  cup,  as  greedily  as  any  one,  and 
his  voice  joins  in  the  chorus  of  the  boisterous 
song.  The  sad  tidings  soon  finds  its  way  to  his 
parents'  ears,  and  they  learn,  when  it  is  too  late> 
that  their  son  is  lost. 

How  many  widowed  mothers  are  there  now 
weeping  disconsolate.  How  many  sorrowful  fa- 
thers, mourning  over  a  dissolute  child.  The  pa- 
rents hoped  that  native  virtue  would  afford  suffici- 
€nt  strength  to  pass  safely  through  these  exposures. 
They  neglected  to  inculcate  principles  of  piety, 
and  to  fortify  their  child's  mind  with  faith  and 
prayer.  And  behold  the  result !  a  result  which 
might  have  been  anticipated,  if  these  parents 
would  learn  a  lesson  from  the  experience  of  thou- 
sands, who,  in  a  similar  way,  have  had  their 
hopes  disappointed.  Oh  when  will  the  world 
learn  that  to  love  God  is  the  way  to  be  happy; 
that  there  is  no  means  of  promoting  real  enjoy- 
ment but  by  obeying  the  word  of  God  ?  Why  will 
men  continue  so  madly  to  expose  themselves 
to  the  ruin  of  every  hope,  when  the  loud  voice  of 
God,  and  the  voice  of  all  experience  warn  them 
of  their  danger.  Do  but  look  at  the  world,  and 
iearn  wisdom.  There  is  absolutely  no  safety, 
but  in  coming  to  God,  and  making  a  surrender 
of  heart  and  family  to  him. 

Let  your  son  leave  your  roof  a  Christian  ;  let 
him  go  forth  a  disciple  of  Jesiis,  with  faith  in  the 
promises  of  God,  and  with  prayerful  dependence 
upon  his  strength,  and  he  has  deep-rooted  prin- 
ciple to  meet  every  emergency.  You  need  have 
but  little  to  fear,  but  that  he  will  retain  his  integri- 
ty. He  will  rise  in  usefulness  and  respect.  In 
16* 


186 


his  conduct,  he  will  reflect  honor  upon  yon ; 
and  in  your  old  age,  joy  will  beam  upon  your 
heart,  as  in  him  you  live  your  life  over  again. 
But  should  he  die,  and  leave  you  childless,  to  go 
down  the  vale  of  years,  you  are  by  no  means 
comfortless.  Faith  traces  the  path  of  your  child 
to  brighter  worlds.  You  see  him  an  inhabitant 
of  eternity,  with  the  robe  of  a  Saviour's  right- 
eousness, with  the  crown  of  redemption,  with  the 
harp,  vibrating  in  harmony  with  the  angels'^ 
song. 


A  MOTHER'S  PRIVILEGE. 


Oh  !  if  there  be  linked  with  tho'gloom  of  existence 
One  feeling  tlmt  deepens  the  darkness  it  wears, 
'Tis  a  fond  mother's  fear,  that  foresees,  in  the  distance, 
Her  infant  sent  forth  to  the  world  and  its  snares. 

Shall  that  face,  a  sweet  well-spring  of  smiles,  soon  be  saddened 
Those  weak  trembling  hands  be  nplified  to  sin  ? 
Shall  the  heart  which  scarce  heaves  on  her  bosom  be  maddened 
By  pain  from  without,  or  by  passion  withrn  ? 

In  that  hour,  when  her  form  is  forgotten  who  bore  him, 
And  the  arm  that  first  clasped  him  lies  cold  in  the  grave, 
Her  spirit  may  hover  in  tenderness  o'er  him, 
And  see  him  alas!  but  not  warn  him,  nor  save  ! 

Is  there  none,  then,  to  care  for  the  desolate  stranger. 
Who  goes,  all  unheeding,  unarmed,  on  his  way  ; 
No  Spirit  of  might,  to  walk  near  him  in  danger. 
And  scatter  the  fiends  that  would  make  him  their  prey  ? 

Oh,  yes  !  there  is  One,  and  beside  Him  no  other  ! 
The  Redeemer,  the  ruler,  whose  throne  is  on  high! 
From  the  glories  of  heaven  He  beholds  the  sad  mother  J 
Mid  the  songs  of  the  angels  He  catches  thy  sigh. 

Go,  take  thy  sweet  babe,  and  to  Jesus  confide  him ; 
He  has  dwelt  in  our  flesh,  he  can  feel  for  our  fears  ! 
Take  this  lamb  to  the  Shepherd,  who  safely  shall  guide  him 
Through  the  desert  of  perils,  the  valley  of  tears. 


(   187  ) 


A  COMMON  CHANGE. 

A  RESPECTABLE  widow  lady ,  with  a  very  small 
income,  which  she  was  obliged  to  eke  out  by  the 
produce  of  her  own  industry  and  ingenuity,  was 
remarkable  for  her  liberality,  especially  in  con- 
tributing to  the  cause  of  religion.  When  any 
work  of  pious  benevolence  was  going  forward, 
her  minister  hesitated  to  call  on  her,  lest  her  lib- 
eral spirit  should  prompt  her  to  contribute  be- 
yond her  ability  ;  but  she  was  always  sure  to  find 
out  what  was  in  hand,  and  voluntarily  to  offer  a 
donation  equal  to  those  of  persons  in  comparative 
affluence,  accompanied  by  a  gentle  rebuke  to 
her  minister,  for  having  passed  her  by.  In  pro- 
cess of  time,  this  lady  came  into  the  possession 
of  an  ample  fortune,  greatly  to  the  joy  of  all  who 
knew  her  willing  liberality.  But  it  was  with  no 
small  degree  of  regret  that  her  minister  observ- 
ed, she  no  longer  came  forward  unsolicited  to 
contribute  towards  the  good  cause,  and  that, 
when  applied  to,  she  yielded  her  aid  but  coldly 
and  grudgingly,  and  sometim.es  excused  herself 
from  giving  at  all.  On  one  occasion,  she  pre- 
sented a  shilling  to  the  same  cause,  to  which  she 
had  formerly  given  a  guinea,  when  in  a  state  of 
comparative  poverty.  The  minister  felt  it  his 
duty  to  expostulate  with  her,  and  remind  her  of 
her  former  generosity,  when  her  means  were  so 
circumscribed.  '*  Ah  !  sir, "  she  affectingly  re- 
plied, "  then,  I  had  the  shilling  means,  but  the 
guinea  heart ;  now,  I  have  the  guinea  means, 
but  only  the  shilling  heart.     Then,  I  received 


188       FUTURE    DEFENDERS    OF    THE    FAITH» 

from  my  heavenly  Father's  hand,  day  by  day, 
my  daily  bread,  and  I  had  enough  and  to  spare ; 
now,  I  have  to  look  to  my  ample  income ;  but  I 
live  in  constant  apprehension  that  I  may  come 
to  want !  "  Can  any  reader  be  at  a  loss  to  de- 
cide which  was  the  time  of  her  poverty ,  and 
which  of  her  riches'^ 


FUTURE  DEFENDERS  OF  THE  FAITH. 

Who  knows  not  that  the  men  who  are  at  this 
time  set  for  the  defence  of  the  gospel — who  are 
from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  declaring  the  glad 
tidings  of  salvation  from  the  pulpits  of  the  land, 
were,  some  forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  under  the 
special  guardianship  of  then  mothers  1  About 
that  time,  they  were  in  training ;  what  of  moral 
or  religious  influence  was  brought  to  bear  upon 
them  in  the  nursery,  was  there  in  exercise.  The 
mothers  who  commenced  that  influence,  and 
carried  it  forward — who  taught  their  little  knees 
to  bend  in  adoration  before  God,  and  their  lips 
to  offer  prayers  to  him,  are,  perhaps,  no  more. 
But  their  sons  of  many  vows,  consecrated  to 
Ood,  may  be,  from  their  very  birth,  dedicated  in 
a  thousand  prayers,  and  by  a  thousand  tears  ; 
those  sons  still  live,  and  are,  at  this  present 
time,  stationed  here  and  there,  on  the  walls  and 
ramparts  of  the  spiritual  Jerusalem,  and  are  con- 
tending "  earnestly  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to 


FUTURE    DEFF.NPEI^S    OF    THE    FAITH.        189 

the  saints."  We  see  these  every  day  ;  we  know 
them ;  we  hear  them  ;  and  by  means  of  their  holy 
warfare,  how  in  check  is  the  enemy  kept !  Nay, 
through  the  blessing  of  God  upon  their  labors, 
how  strong  are  the  walls  of  Zion  becoming ! 
What  enlistments  to  the  gospel  standard  !  What 
accessions  of  spiritual  territory  to  *'  virtue's 
cause!"  Beit  remembered,  that  a  portion  of 
these  heart-thrilling  results,  are,  under  God,  to 
be  traced  back  directly  to  the  prayers  and  tears, 
to  the  counsels,  the  watchings,  the  pleadings  of 
a  generation  of  mothers,  who  lived  some  forty  or 
fifty  years  ago. 

And  requires  it  the  gift  of  prophecy  to  foresee 
that  precisely  the  same  will  be  true,  some  forty 
or  fifty  years  hence,  in  respect  to  the  cliildren  of 
the  present  day,  if  mothers  are  similarly  faithful? 
Years  will  roll  along,  and  will  add  to  the  stature 
of  infants  now  in  their  nurse's  laps.  Youth  will 
pass  by,  and  manhood  will  arrive.  The  day  of 
action  will  come.  Those  who  now  occupy  the 
watchtowers  of  the  land,  and  their  immediate 
successors,  will  be  laid  aside,  and  these  infants 
will  take  their  place  ;  and  upon  them  it  will  de- 
pend, under  God,  whether  the  present  'vantage 
ground  be  maintained  or  lost ;  whether  the  ban- 
ner of  the  Gospel  shall  wave  broader  and  longer  ; 
whether  the  present  anticipations  of  the  children 
of  God,  in  respect  to  the  latter  day  glory  of  the 
church,  shall  be  realized  ;  and  finally,  whether 
upon  the  mountains  of  Zion,  the  tabernacles  of 
joy,  shall  be  reared,  and  the  pious  pilgrim  shalJ 
then  sing,  as  he  sings  now, — 

How  pleased  and  blest  was  I, 
To  hear  the  people  cry. 


1'90       FUTURE    DEFENDERS    OP    THE    FAITH. 

Come,  let  us  seek  our  God  to  day  ! 

Yes,  with  a  cheerful  zeal 

We'll  haste  to  Zion's  hill, 
And  there  our  vows  and  honors  pay ; — 

or,  whether  a  spiritual  night  shall  encompass 
the  world,  and  the  progress  of  the  gospel  be 
stayed,  and  the  impenitent  and  the  heathen  grope 
OR  unenlightened  and  bewildered. 

With  such  thoughts  crowding  in  upon  me,  I 
wander  in  imagination  round  the  land.  I  knock 
at  one  habitation  and  another.  I  enter  ;  I  look 
around  upon  the  family  circle.  I  seem  to  ap- 
proach a  mother.  *'  Madam,"  I  say,  "  you  are  a 
Kiother.  I  see,  clustering  about  you,  several 
bright  and  promising  children  ;  allow  me  to  in- 
quire whether  you  know  whom  you  have  in 
charge  ?  That  little  girl,  properly  trained,  may 
become  another  Harriet  Newell,  and  that  a  Mrs. 
Graham,  or  a  Mrs.  Judson.  Has  this  ever  oc- 
curred to  you  1  And,  impressed  with  the  con- 
viction that  your  children  may  be  moulded  much 
as  you  like,  what,  permit  me  to  ask,  are  you 
doing  for  them  1  Are  they  training  for  some 
such  noble  destiny  1  Are  you  daily  at  the  throne 
of  grace  for  them?  Are  you  teaching  them  by 
precept  and  example  to  accomplish  that  amount 
of  good,  which  God  may  put  in  their  power  1 
And,  more  than  this— are  you  imparting  to  them 
lessons  about  immortality;  drawing  for  them, 
and  with  the  holy  intent  that  they  shall  exercise 
all  their  proper  influence  upon  them,  pictures  of 
the  graces  of  the  Gospel,  in  all  their  loveliness  ? 
Do  you  tell  of  a  brighter,  holier,  lovelier  world 
than  this,  and,  pointing  to  it,  do  yourself  lead  the 


FUTURE    DEFENDERS    OF    THE    FAITH-       19  ( 

I  enter  another  dwelling,  I  see  a  mother  and 
her  darling  boy.  What  a  delightful  sight  I 
What  maternal  tenderness  !  How  at  **  nature's 
bidding  "  she  bends  over  him,  while  he  revels  at 
the  pure  fountain  provided  for  him  !  How  he 
turns  his  glistening  eye,  and  exults  in  a  mother's 
smiles  and  caresses  !  How  fondling  she  !  How 
proudly  shows  her  hoy, 

''  Madam,"  I  again  say,  "  are  you  aware 
whom  you  may  be  holding  in  your  arms  '  That 
boy  may  become  a  bold,  decided  champion  of 
the  cross  ;  he  may  prove  an  Edwards,  a  Chal- 
mers, a  Swartz,  an  Eliot,  or  a  Martyn  ;  he  may 
stand  in  some  future  breach  made  in  the  walls  of 
Zion ;  he  may  occupy  some  theological  chair ; 
may  become  some  mighty  spiritual  messenger  in 
some  foreign  land ;  may  urge  forward,  by  a 
power  and  a  success  greater  than  I  can  name, 
the  promised  glories  of  the  church  of  Christ." 

Methinks  1  hear  her  say,  "  Sir,  you  surprise 
me.  What  am  I,  or  what  is  my  father's  house, 
that  a  child  of  mine  should  be  destined  to  accom- 
plish such  wonders  as  these  ?  No,  no  ;  the  true 
prophetical  spirit  rests  not  upon  you  ;  it  is  the 
flattery  of  a  deceiver  ;  or  the  wild  anticipations 
of  an  enthusiast." 

"  Madam,  will  you  listea  to  me  ?  I  claim  not 
the  gift  of  prophecy.  The  future  destiny  of 
your  child  is  indeed  in  the  hands  of  God,  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  will  employ  him  he  has 
disclosed  neither  to  myself,  nor  to  any  one. 
But  tell  me,  why  are  you  a  mother?  Who  gave 
you  the  felicity  of  being  the  parent  of  that  boy  T 
Whose  property  is  that  child  ?  Who  confided 
him  to  your  care  1     And  for  what  purpoee   have 


192      FUTURE    DEFENDERS    OF    THE    FAITH. 

you  the  keeping  of  him?  Go,  madam,  and  pe- 
ruse your  Bible;  there  read  your  duty — there 
read  your  encouragement ;  '  Train  up  a  child  in 
the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he 
will  not  depart  from  it.'  Following  that  one 
5m^/e  direction  of  God,  tell  me^  who  can  dis- 
close the  consequences?  Suppose  you  do  as 
you  may,  in  respect  to  that  boy  ;  suppose  you 
are  faithful  to  him  ;  suppose  you  early  instruct 
him  ;  tell  him  of  God  and  of  divine  things,  as 
his  mind  expands:  suppose  you  accompany  your 
instructions  with  daily,  fervent ^  importunate 
prayer  to  God  in  his  behalf — you  are  sincere^ 
faithful,  PERSEVERING ;  tell  me,  what  may  you 
not  expect  ?  You  may  indeed  fail  of  seeing  your 
child  gathering  in  the  honors  of  an  unholy  am- 
bition, and  probably  you  will ;  and  possibly  God 
may  not  require  his  assistance  in  the  great  work 
of  urging  forward  the  kingdom  of  the  Redeemer  ; 
but  one  point  is  nearly  sure ;  that  child,  under 
such  faithful  training,  will  ultimately  become  a 
follower  of  Christ;  a  decided  child  of  God. 
Not,  perhaps,  while  you  live ;  may  be,  not  for 
years  after  you  shall  have  gone  to  the  grave. 
But  come  the  period  will.  Do  I  speak  too 
strongly  ?  Well  then,  that  day  will  probably 
come,  when,  under  the  promptings  of  the  early 
counsels  of  a  mother,  pressed  home  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  he  will  come  to  repentance  and  salva- 
tion.    For, 

Though  seed  lie  buried  long  in  dust, 
It  shan't  deceive  our  hope. 

**  Thus  the  repentance  and  eternal  joy  of  your 
child  will  be  secured.     And  this  in  prospect  will 


FUTURE    DEFENDERS    OF    THE    FAITH.        193 

gladden  your  heart,  amidst  all  the  reverses  which 
may  come  upon  you  in  life;  this  will  com- 
fort you,  when  you  lie  down  and  think  of  the 
storm  and  the  tempest  which  may  be  beating 
i;:)on  some  ship,  which  wafts  your  child,  in  future 
years,  on  some  distant  ocean.  This  will  help  to 
relieve  even  the  shadows  of  death,  should  you  be 
called  to  walk  through  them  before  he  has  turned 
unto  God. 

*'  But  more  than  this.  Train  this  child  in  the 
manner  suggested,  and  who  can  say  that  he  may 
not  be  employed  in  the  mighty  movements  of 
the  approaching  golden  age  of  the  Christian 
Church?  The  foundation  will  be  laid  for  this; 
and  God  will  use  him  if  he  pleases." 

In  view  of  consequences  so  solemn,  so  delight- 
ful, and  even  so  probable,  will  not  mothers  enter 
upon  the  noble  labors  assigned  them  ?  Can  they 
longer  neglect  the  blessings  which  they  may  in- 
sure to  their  offspring  ?  Can  they  resist  the 
tremendous  responsibility  which  is  pressing  upon 
them  ?  Have  they  no  fear  of  God  ?  Have 
they  no  love  for  Jesus  ?  Have  they  no  regard 
for  souls  ?  Would  they  impede  the  movements 
of  modern  times?  Would  they  cause  even  a 
moment's  check  to  the  triumphs  of  the  cross, 
or  put'  to  hazard  a  crown  of  glory,  in  respect  to 
a  single  son  or  daughter  of  Adam  t 


17' 


University  of 
Connecticut 

Libraries 


